JIG 

ulian  Street 


ornia 
tal 

7 


SUNBEAMS,  INC. 


Books  by  Julian  Street 


ABROAD  AT  HOME 

AFTER  THIRTY 

AMERICAN  ADVENTURES 

THE  NEED  OF  CHANGE 

THE  MOST  INTERESTING  AMERICAN 

(A  close  range  study  of  Theodore  Roosevelt) 

PARIS  A  LA  CARTE 
SHIP-BORED 
WELCOMH  TO  OUR  CITT 
THE  GOLDFISH 

(For  Children) 


OF  CALIF.    LIBRARY,    LOS 


BY 
JULIAN    STREET 


FRONTISPIECE 

BY 
ARTHUR    WILLIAM    BROWN 


GARDEN   CITY  NEW   YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1920 


COPYRIGHT,    191i),    1920,    BY 

JULIAN   STREET 

ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED,   INCLUDING   THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO   FOREIGN   LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  TUE  SCANDINAVIAN 


Stack  Annex 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  HENRY  BELL  BROWN     ......  3 

II.  A  LITTLE  BANQUET   .......  16 

III.  AN  ADVERTISING  ENGINEER    ....  38 

IV.  THE  SUNSHINE  IDEA      ......  49 

V.  GLOOM  CHASERS    ........  61 

VI.  THE  UPLIFT  BUSINESS  ......  72 

VII.  SUNSHINE  WINS  THE  WAR  .....  81 

VIII.  THE  PUNDITS  CLUB  .......  88 

IX.  A  BIG  BANQUET    ........  101 

X.  A  LOVING  CUP  112 


2132937 


SUNBEAMS,  INC. 


CHAPTER    ONE 

HENRY      BELL      BROWN 

FROM  the  outset  the  event  was  spoken 
of  as  a  banquet.  Little  Jimmy  Otis 
called  it  that  when  he  proposed  the 
plan,  and  his  fellow  workers  on  the  staff  of  the 
New  York  Evening  Dispatch  accepted  the  term 
with  even  less  question  than  they  did  the  plan, 
because  it  was  obviously  the  right  term  in  the 
case  of  Henry  Bell  Brown.  In  honour  of  some 
one  else  a  feed  or  a  blowout  might  have  been 
suggested,  but  for  Henry  Bell  Brown  nothing 
less  than  a  banquet  seemed  to  suffice.  Even 
in  those  days,  you  see,  he  was  tacitly  recognized 
as  a  banquet  sort  of  person. 

Nor  is  it  more  revealing  of  the  thing  Brown 
called  his  "personality"  that  the  farewell  festivi 
ties  proposed  in  his  honour  should  take  this 
sumptuous  form  and  title,  than  it  is  revealing  of 
the  character  of  Jimmy  Otis  that  he  should 

3 


4  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

have  been  the  one  to  think  of  giving  Brown  a 
send-off.  For  Otis  was  by  nature  one  of  those 
amiably  disposed  individuals  who  may  broadly 
be  classified  as  givers;  whereas  Brown  was  by 
nature  a  taker — or  at  the  least,  and  the  politest, 
an  accepter.  Otis  always  had  a  cheap  cigarette 
for  any  one  who  wanted  it;  Brown  always  had  a 
good  cigar  for  himself. 

But  where  Otis's  cigarettes,  being  purchased 
to  suit  his  own  taste  and  pocketbook,  were  at 
least  uniform,  Henry  Bell  Brown's  cigars  had  no 
uniformity,  but  reflected  in  their  various  brands 
and  shapes  the  taste  and  affluence  of  such  men 
as  had  recently  been  interviewed  by  him.  There 
was  that  about  Brown  which  caused  men  to 
offer  him  cigars,  though  just  what  made  them 
do  so  might  be  difficult  to  say. 

With  Otis  it  was  different;  he  did  not  get  so 
many  or  such  good  ones;  and  as  he  did  not  smoke 
cigars  those  he  did  receive  usually  found  their  way 
to  Brown's  breast  pocket,  whence  in  due  course 
they  were  removed,  to  be  smoked  by  Brown, 
if  good  enough;  or  if  not,  then  to  be  presented 
by  him,  with  that  handsome  liberality  of  gesture 
he  commanded,  to  one  of  the  compositors  or  to 


HENRY    BELL    BROWN  5 

his  barber,  or,  if  very  dubious,  to  a  certain 
coloured  man  who  ran  one  of  the  elevators  in  the 
Dispatch  Building  and  enjoyed  Brown's  good 
opinion  because  he  always  touched  his  cap  to 
Brown  but  never  to  any  other  reporter. 

Otis  suggested  his  plan  one  afternoon  when 
the  last  edition  had  gone  to  press  and  the  city 
room  of  the  Dispatch  had  turned  into  a  place 
of  peace,  tobacco  smoke,  and  mild  political  dis 
cussion.  Having  finished  a  Saturday  special 
and  lighted  one  of  his  bad  cigarettes  from  the 
very  brief  end  of  another  he  put  the  cover  over 
his  typewriter  and  strolled  to  the  desk  of  the 
assistant  city  editor,  Yoakum,  around  whom 
several  men  in  their  shirt  sleeves  were  reclining 
on  desks  and  tilted  chairs. 

"Say,"  he  said,  addressing  the  entire  group, 
"I've  been  thinking  about  Brown." 

"So  has  Brown,"  returned  the  column  con 
ductor,  dryly. 

"Sure  he  has,"  admitted  Otis.  "And  why 
not?  If  he  doesn't  think  of  himself,  who's 
going  to?  If  some  of  the  rest  of  us  were  to  do 
a  little  more  thinking  for  ourselves,  along  simi 
lar  lines,  we'd  be  a  lot  better  off." 


6  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"That's  no  dream,"  agreed  one  of  the  group. 

"I  call  it  pretty  neat  work,"  Otis  continued, 
"for  a  fellow  to  think  himself  out  of  a  forty -five- 
dollar-a-week  job  in  this  rotten  newspaper 
game,  and  into  seventy-five  a  week  in  a  decent, 
respectable  business." 

"But  are  you  sure  it  is  that?"  asked  the 
city -hall  man.  "I  hope  it  is,  but  Beman 
says " 

"The  advertising  business?"  broke  in  Otis. 
"Why " 

"I  mean  this  firm  Brown's  going  with,"  re 
turned  the  other.  "  Beman  says  they  do  a  big 
business  and  put  up  a  big  front.  But  it's  too 
much  front  and  not  enough  back,  according  to 
him.  Too  many  oil  and  mining  stocks  to  sell5 
and  a  lot  of  that  'Free-to-you-my-suffering-sister' 
medical  advertising." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  Otis  said. 

"Well,  if  it's  front  they're  looking  for,"  put 
in  the  make-up  editor,  who  had  recently  been 
married,  "Brown's  got  that,  all  right." 

"He's  got  more  than  front,"  Otis  defended. 
"He's  got  initiative." 

"Yes,"  added  the  column  conductor;  "Henry 


HENRY    BELL    BROWN  7 

Bell  Brown  has  lots  of  initiative  but  very  little 
referendum." 

"Well,  I  didn't  come  over  here  to  take  him 
apart  and  find  out  what  makes  him  tick,"  Otis 
went  on.  "I  came  over  to  propose  that  we 
give  him  a  nice  little  send-off  a  week  from  Satur 
day  night  after  he  quits." 

"What  kind  of  a  send-off?"  asked  Bolton,  the 
society  editor. 

"A  testimonial  banquet." 

"Very  nice,"  approved  a  young  reporter.  "I 
know  a  little  restaurant  where — 

"I  think  he  might  accept  a  testimonial  ban 
quet  if  it  was  done  in  a  style  to  suit  his  rank  and 
station,"  interrupted  the  column  conductor. 
"At  times  he's  quite  democratic." 

"All  the  same,"  said  the  city-hall  man,  who 
was  financing  his  daughter  in  a  stenographic 
course,  "Brown's  the  highest-paid  man  on  the 
reportorial  staff,  and  if,  as  he  says,  this  advertis 
ing  firm  has  offered  him  nearly  twice  his  present 
pay,  why,  then — 

"That's  it!"  broke  in  the  young  reporter. 
"It  ought  to  be  a  farewell  banquet  from  him 
tons!" 


8  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"Now  if  you're  all  through  with  your  wooden- 
shoe  stuff,"  Otis  went  on,  patiently,  "I  will 
elucidate:  Here's  a  man  that  has  made  good 
on  this  paper.  He's  going  to  a  new  job,  and  if 
we  aren't  a  lot  of  bilious  knockers  we  wish  him 
well.  We  may  kid  about  Brown,  but  just  the 
same  there  isn't  a-man  here  who  doesn't  respect 
him." 

"Sure,"  said  the  irrepressible  youth.  "I 
respect  any  newspaper  man  that  has  his  clothes 
made  to  order  and  carries  a  cane." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  interjected  the  column 
conductor.  "Bolton  carries  a  cane." 

"I  said  'newspaper  man,' "  returned  the  other. 
"That  has  nothing  to  do  with  society  editors." 

"Be  careful,  young  fellow,"  said  Bolton,  good- 
naturedly,  "or  you  may  find  out  why  I  carry  a 
cane." 

"So,"  continued  Otis,  speaking  as  though 
there  had  been  no  interruption  whatsoever, 
"the  proposition  is  before  you.  How  about  a 
banquet  for  Brown?  " 

"What's  it  going  to  cost?"  asked  the  city-hall 
man,  Murphy  by  name. 

"Two  dollars  a  head,"  said  Otis,  "including 


HENRY    BELL    BROWN  9 

cocktails,  dinner,  red  wine,  oratory,  and  a  solid 
silver  loving  cup  with  all  our  names  engraved 
on  it,  to  be  presented  to  the  victim." 

"Two  dollars!  And  a  loving  cup!"  cried  the 
city-hall  man.  "Why  not  buy  him  a  limousine, 
too?" 

"Here's  the  way  it  figures  out,"  Otis  went  on, 
placidly:  "I  thought  Rafaelli's  in  West  Thir 
teenth  Street  would  be  a  good  place  to  give  it. 
Not  too  cheap  and  not  too  dear.  I  saw  Rafaelli 
about  it  this  morning.  He'll  furnish  his  regular 
table  d'hote  and  give  us  a  big  private  room  on 
the  second  floor  without  extra  charge." 

"That's  eighty-five  cents  apiece,  isn't  it?" 
asked  Murphy. 

"Yes.  Fifteen  cents  more  each  for  tips 
makes  an  even  dollar;  and  seventy -five  cents 
more  on  top  of  that — figuring  on  twenty  of  us 
being  there — makes  fifteen  dollars,  which  will 
cover  the  cost  of  a  very  decent  little  loving  cup 
that  Beman  says  he  can  get  at  the  wholesale 
rate  from  some  advertiser." 

"That's  a  dollar  seventy-five  each,  so  far," 
computed  Murphy,  grimly. 

"Yes.     And  twenty-five  cents   more   apiece 


10  SUNBEAMS,     INC. 

ought  to  cover  the  engraving  of  the  cup,  flowers 
for  the  table,  and  other  incidentals." 

"It  won't,"  declared  Bolton.  "And  besides, 
a  dollar  has  to  come  out  of  the  general  fund  for 
Brown's  own  dinner  and  tip.  Remember,  we 
have  to  pay  that.  Better  make  it  two  and  a 
quarter  each,  Jimmy." 

"Not  on  your  life!"  protested  Murphy. 
"We  all  like  Brown.  We're  all  for  this  scheme. 
But  two  dollars  is  too  much.  Cut  out  the  cup, 
I  say,  and  go  to  a  cheaper  place." 

"I  know  a  little  restaurant —  '  began  the 
young  reporter.  But  he  was  cut  short  by  the 
column  conductor,  demanding: 

"Who  took  you  there?" 

"If  we're  going  to  do  this  thing  at  all,"  Otis 
said,  "we  ought  to  do  it  right — especially  as 
it's  for  Henry  Bell  Brown." 

"Correct,"  put  in  Yoakum,  who  had  not 
spoken  before.  "If  it's  made  a  real  occasion 
it  ought  to  make  him  feel  good  all  the  rest 
of  his  life.  Call  it  two  dollars  a  head,  and 
if  it  runs  over  that  we'll  get  the  Old  Man  to 
dig." 

The  others  chiming  in  with  this,  Otis  nomi- 


HENRY    BELL    BROWN  11 

nated  the  column  conductor  and  the  society 
editor  to  serve  with  him  in  making  the  arrange 
ments.  Thus,  when,  in  the  middle  of  Brown's 
final  week  on  the  paper,  it  was  decided  to  inform 
him  that  a  banquet  in  his  honour  was  impend 
ing,  the  pleasant  duty  of  giving  him  this  infor 
mation  fell  to  Bolton's  lot. 

He  caught  Brown  at  noontime  in  the  lower 
hall  of  the  building. 

"There's  a  plan  on  foot  to  give  you  a  little 
farewell  banquet  on  Saturday  night,  old  man," 
he  said.  "The  fellows  wanted  me  to  let  you 
know  so  that  you  wouldn't  make  any  other 
engagement." 

"That's  certainly  very  nice  of  the  boys,"  said 
Brown.  "Where  is  it  to  be  held? " 

"At  Rafaelli's,"  said  Bolton. 

"Rafaelli's?  Let's  see;  that's  a  table  d'hote 
place,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes.  West  Thirteenth  Street.  Haven't  you 
ever  eaten  there?" 

Brown  shook  his  head. 

"I've  gotten  rather  into  the  way  of  dining  at 
Sullivan's,"  he  said.  "I've  often  thought  of 
trying  some  of  those  little  places  in  the  side 


12  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

streets.  I  suppose  I'd  have  saved  a  good  deal 
of  money  if  I'd  done  it." 

Somehow,  without  quite  knowing  why,  Bol- 
ton  began  to  feel  a  little  bit  apologetic. 

"You'll  find  Rafaelli's  pretty  fair,"  he  said. 
"Of  course  it  isn't  Sullivan's.  That's  under 
stood.  But  we're  going  to  have  a  private  room 
and  a  good  time  just  the  same." 

"Oh,  of  course,"  Brown  hastened  to  say. 
"Naturally  you  understand  I  appreciate  that 
it's  the  spirit  of  a  thing  like  this  that  counts — 
not  where  you  give  it  or  how  much  it  costs." 

"Still,  it  ought  to  be  done  right,"  Bolton  said. 
Then  after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  went  on: 
"The  fact  is,  we  could  have  given  the  banquet 
at  Sullivan's — we  have  enough  money  to  do  it. 
But  the  fellows  thought  they'd  rather  go  a  little 
easy  on  the  cost  of  the  actual  meal  and  put 
the  extra  money  into  something  you  can  always 
keep  as  a  souvenir  of  the  occasion." 

"That's  bully!  Do  you  know  what  they're 
planning  to  get  me?  " 

"A  loving  cup  with  an  inscription  and  all  our 
names  on  it,"  said  Bolton.  "But  don't  let  on 
that  you  know.  It's  meant  to  be  a  surprise." 


HENRY    BELL    BROWN  13 

"Oh,  I'll  be  surprised,"  Brown  reassured  with 
a  smile.  "A  loving  cup  will  be  fine.  To  get 
all  the  names  on  will  take  quite  a  fair-sized  cup, 
too,  I  should  think." 

"  Yes.     It  ought  to  be  quite  a  nice  cup." 

"As  long  as  you're  picking  it  out,"  said 
Brown,  "I  know  it  will." 

"The  cup's  not  my  part  of  the  job,"  Bolton 
said.  "Jimmy  Otis  is  handling  that  end  of  it — 
the  business  end." 

"Oh,"  commented  Brown.  "Well,  I'm  sorry 
you're  not  handling  that  end,  too,  old  man. 
Otis  is  a  good  chap — a  mighty  good  chap — but 
I  don't  know  how  he  is  on  taste.  He  certainly 
doesn't  show  any  in  the  way  he  dresses.  Has. 
he  bought  the  cup  yet?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well,  if  he  hasn't  you  might  get  a  chance  to 
put  a  flea  in  his  ear.  Why  don't  you  go  with 
him  when  he  picks  it  out?  What  I'm  afraid  of 
is  that  he'll  get  something  too  ornate.  He'll 
probably  think  an  ornate  cup  is  handsomer  than 
a  simple  colonial  design.  But  you  try  to  edge 
him  toward  something  simple,  old  man.  The 
simple  ones  look  a  lot  richer." 


14  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"I'll  try." 

"Not  that  any  cup  the  fellows  give  me  won't 
be  highly  valued,"  Brown  added,  "but  only  that 
since  they  are  giving  it  they'd  rather  it  would  be 
just  tjie  thing  I'd  like." 

"Naturally." 

"How  did  they  come  to  select  Otis  to  pick 
out  the  cup?" 

"They  didn't  select  him,  exactly.  He  said 
he'd  undertake  that  part  of  the  job.  You  see 
Otis  suggested  the  whole  idea  of  giving  you  a 
banquet." 

"It  was  certainly  very  decent  of  him,"  said 
Brown.  "I'll  have  to  thank  him  personally." 

"Then  it's  all  understood,"  Bolton  said. 
"We'll  be  looking  for  you  at  Rafaelli's  next 
Saturday  evening  at  seven-thirty  sharp." 

"  Eighty  you  are." 

Then  evidently  feeling  that  a  special  show  of 
appreciation  was  in  order  Henry  Bell  Brown 
drew  from  the  breast  pocket  of  his  waistcoat 
three  dissimilar  cigars — a  large  thick  cigar,  a 
middle-sized  cigar,  and  a  small  cigar — and 
inspected  them. 

"Have  a  smoke,  old  man,"  he  said,  passing 


HENRY    BELL    BROWN  15 

the  one  of  intermediate  size  to  the  society  editor,, 
while  with  the  other  hand  he  returned  the  corona 
and  the  chica  to  his  pocket. 

"Thanks,"  returned  Bolton,  gratefully,  as  he 
accepted  the  gift.  "Coming  from  you,  Brown., 
I  know  it's  a  good  one,  too." 

"You'll  find  it  all  right,"  Brown  returned, 
nodding.  "  It's  really  worth  while  giving  you  a 
good  Havana,  Bolton,  because  you're  the  kind 
of  chap  that  knows  what  good  tobacco  is. 
That's  more  than  any  of  the  other  fellows  do. 
One  reason  I'll  be  glad  to  leave  this  shop  is 
that  I'll  be  free  from  the  stink  of  Jimmy  Otis's 
cigarettes." 

With  this  interchange  of  compliments  they 
parted,  each  filled  with  a  curious  and  agreeable 
feeling  of  sophistication  and  importance. 

"There's  a  fellow  that's  going  to  win  out," 
thought  Bolton  as  he  went  up  in  the  elevator. 

"With  just  a  bit  of  help,"  thought  Brown, 
"that  fellow  might  get  along  in  the  world." 


CHAPTER     TWO 

A      LITTLE      BANQUET 

SO  FAR  as  Henry  Bell  Brown  had  been 
able  to  ascertain,  he  was  one  of  but  three 
reporters  on  the  Dispatch  possessing 
dress  suits,  and  was  alone  in  the  possession  of  a 
garment  he  termed  a"tuc" — meaning  a  tuxedo 
— meaning  a  dinner  coat.  But  whereas  in  the 
past  he  had  rejoiced,  more  or  less  privately,  in 
this  sartorial  equipment,  as  symbolic  of  the 
superiority  of  which  he  could  not  help  being  con 
scious,  he  now  found  himself  wishing  that  every 
man  on  the  Dispatch  staff  owned  evening  clothes 
of  one  kind  or  another.  Nor  was  this  wish  as 
generous  as  might  at  first  appear.  He  did  not 
care  whether  the  others  had  evening  clothes  at 
that  moment  or  whether  they  had  them  next 
week.  His  wish  was  that  they  should  have 
them  on  the  approaching  Saturday  night,  in 
order  that  his  festival  should  present  such  a 

16 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  17 

picture  of  brilliant  dignity  as  may  be  attained 
only  where  lustrous  white  shirt  bosoms  and 
silken  facings  garnish  a  banquet  board.  He 
would  have  liked  to  feel  that  there  would  be 
dress  suits  around  him. 

In  view,  however,  of  the  fact  that  there  would 
not  be  dress  suits  around  him,  he  found  it  nec 
essary  to  ponder  considerably  the  matter  of  his 
own  attire  for  the  celebration,  and  it  was  not 
until  he  came  to  the  point  of  dressing  for  the 
banquet  that  he  succeeded  in  making  up  his 
mind  what  to  wear.  In  doing  so  he  developed 
a  philosophy  of  dress  to  which  he  determined  to 
adhere  in  future. 

"The  thing  to  do,"  he  said  to  himself,  "is 
always  to  be  dressed  correctly,  regardless  of  what 
others  may  wear.  Let  them  be  wrong  if  they 
like;  that  is  not  your  affair.  You  be  right." 

No  one  who  has  read  a  theatre  programme  be 
tween  the  acts  can  be  in  any  doubt  as  to  what  is 
the  correct  costume  to  be  worn  at  a  banquet 
attended  only  by  men.  "  For  such  an  occasion," 
says  the  theatre  programme,  "the  dinner  suit, 
with  its  air  of  semi-formality,  is  preeminently, 
solely,  and  par  excellence  the  proper  thing." 


18  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

Henry  Bell  Brown  therefore  donned  his  "tuc." 
Then  after  placing  in  his  pocket  one  single  large 
cigar  he  left  the  room-and-bath  he  was  given  to 
calling  his  bachelor  apartment,  and  walked  down 
to  Madison  Square,  stopping  on  the  way  to  pur 
chase  a  white  carnation  for  his  buttonhole. 

It  was  twenty  minutes  past  seven  when  he 
reached  Madison  Square.  He  strolled  about 
for  ten  minutes,  then  took  a  hansom  and  ordered 
himself  driven  to  Rafaelli's.  That,  he  felt, 
was  the  way  a  man  ought  to  arrive  at  a  banquet 
given  in  his  honour — alone  in  a  hansom,  and  a 
little  late.  He  could  fancy  them  already  be 
ginning  to  look  for  him  anxiously,  and  he  hoped 
that  they  would  see  him  as  he  drove  up.  Un 
fortunately,  however,  the  banquet  room  was  on 
the  second  floor  at  the  rear  of  the  old  brown- 
stone  residence  which  Rafaelli  had  converted 
for  his  purposes ;  consequently  the  arrival  of  the 
guest  of  honour  in  his  equipage  was  not  observed. 

Henry  Bell  Brown  looked  at  the  front  win 
dows  of  the  little  restaurant  as  he  alighted;  see 
ing  no  one  peering  out  he  ordered  the  cabby  to 
wait,  and  entered  the  building.  In  the  hall  he 
paused  and  drew  from  his  wallet  a  twenty-dollar 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  19 

bill.  Then  he  ascended  to  where  familiar  voices 
echoing  down  the  stairway  from  the  floor  above 
told  him  his  hosts  were  gathered. 

"Ah,  here  he  is!  Here's  Brown!  Here  he  is 
at  last ! "  came  the  genial  chorus  of  welcome  as  he 
appeared. 

"Hello,  fellows!"  he  returned.  "Will  some 
body  give  me  change  for  a  twenty?"  He  held 
out  the  bill.  "  I  want  to  pay  my  cab." 

"A  twenty?"  exclaimed  Otis,  making  a  field 
glass  of  his  two  hands  and  gazing  at  the  bill. 
"Nobody  here  ever  saw  a  twenty  before,  let 
alone  changing  one." 

"And  for  a  cab,  too!"  cried  one  of  the  young 
reporters. 

Of  the  entire  group  only  Bolton  took  the  re 
quest  gravely.  Drawing  out  his  own  wallet  he 
inspected  its  contents;  then  with  a  shake  of  the 
head  he  said :  "  I  thought  I  could  fix  you,  but 
I  can't  quite  make  it.  Sorry." 

"Oh,"  said  Brown  turning  to  the  stairs, 
"then  I'll  just  run  down  and  get  it  from  the 
cashier." 

"Hurry  back,"  someone  called  after  him. 
"Here  come  the  cocktails." 


SO  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

Near  the  bottom  of  the  stairway  Brown 
paused,  and  looking  back  to  see  that  he  was 
unobserved  drew  forth  his  wallet  again,  put 
back  the  twenty-dollar  bill,  and  took  out 
instead  a  greenback  of  the  denomination  of 
one  dollar.  After  replacing  the  wallet  in  his 
pocket  he  proceeded  to  the  street  and  paid 
the  cabman  with  the  dollar  bill,  receiving  back 
fifty  cents  in  change,  out  of  which  he  tipped 
the  driver  with  a  dime.  Then  he  went  upstairs 
again. 

He  felt  a  little  conscious  as  he  took  off  his 
overcoat  and  muffler,  revealing  the  magnifi 
cence  beneath,  for  his  white  shirt  bosom  shone 
forth  alone  in  the  assembly.  Nor  was  he  un 
prepared  for  the  brief  tornado  of  not  unfriendly 
jeering  that  ensued,  in  which  he  heard  himself 
hailed  variously  as  a  waiter,  as  a  sweetums,  and 
as  Queen  of  the  May.  At  this  jesting  he 
smiled  blandly,  sipping  the  while  at  a  cocktail 
which,  it  struck  him,  was  rather  raw  in  flavour, 
having  been  made,  he  supposed,  of  gin  of  an 
inferior  grade.  Of  the  entire  gathering  Bolton 
alone  refrained  from  unseemly  comment  on  his 
costume. 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  21 

"I  wish  I'd  known  you  were  going  to  dress," 
the  society  editor  said  as  they  seated  them 
selves  side  by  side  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
"I'd  have  done  it,  too."  Hearing  which  Brown 
felt  more  than  ever  pleased  with  himself  and 
with  Bolton. 

"You've  got  a  mighty  good  head  on  you,  old 
man,"  he  said. 

And  as  the  evening  progressed  so  did  his  good 
opinion  of  the  master  of  ceremonies.  He  had 
always  recognized  the  fact  that  Bolton  wore  his 
clothes  wTith  a  certain  swagger,  so  that  even 
when  the  clothes  themselves  were  not  of  the 
newest,  even  when  close  observation  detected 
cracked  cuffs,  a  shirt  ripped  in  front  near  the 
neckband,  or  a  necktie  becoming  fuzzy  from 
long  wear — even  then,  the  ensemble  was  what 
in  those  days  Brown  was  wont  to  term  "classy"; 
but  now  he  began  to  see  that  Bolton  possessed 
social  talents  that  harmonized  with  his  appear 
ance.  He  presided  tactfully,  genially,  and  with 
discretion. 

At  intervals  while  the  dinner  was  being  served 
songs  which  had  been  prepared  for  the  occasion 
were  rendered  to  unity-turn  accompaniments 


22  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

thumped  out  on  a  battered  old  piano  by  one  of 
the  junior  reporters  whose  touch  hinted  of  very 
recent  college  days.  Most  of  the  songs  were 
parodies  in  which  the  traits  of  familiar  office 
figures  were  set  forth.  Thus,  for  example, 
Beman,  of  the  advertising  department,  who  was 
allowed  to  attend  by  reason  of  his  having  se 
cured  the  loving  cup  at  the  wholesale  price, 
found  himself  celebrated  in  a  new  version  of 
"The  Englishman,"  from  "Pinafore,"  running  in 
part  as  follows: 

He  might  have  been  a  sailor 
A  bartender  or  tailor, 

Or  just  a  baseball  fan. 
But  in  spite  of  all  temptations 
To  other  occupations 

He's  an  advertising  man. 

So,  too,  though  Miss  Rosenstein,  the  alluring 
secretary  to  the  managing  editor,  was  not  pres 
ent  at  the  banquet,  the  occasion  did  not  pass 
without  reference  being  made  to  the  attentions 
paid  her  by  more  than  one  member  of  the  staff; 
to  the  expense  attaching  to  such  enterprise; 
and  to  the  young  woman's  well-known  talent 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  23 

for  extricating  herself  from  these  affairs  not 
only  with  a  whole  heart  but  oftentimes  with 
profit  in  the  way  of  loot.  The  character  of  the 
lyric  version  of  this  bit  of  office  history,  as 
arranged  by  the  column  conductor,  to  the  tune 
of  "The  Rosary,"  may  be  gathered  from  the  first 
four  lines: 

The  coin  Fre  spent  to  win  your  heart 
Would  buy  a  di'mond  pin,  so  fine: 
I  count  it  over  every  time  we  part — 
Miss   Rosenstein.     .     .     . 
Miss  Rosenstein. 

As  for  Henry  Bell  Brown — the  song  sung  in 
his  honour  was  a  lament,  albeit  not  without  a 
certain  note  of  ribald  criticism,  at  his  departure 
from  the  paper.  It  was  set  to  the  tune  of  "We'll 
Drink  the  Nut-Brown  Ale,"  and  something  of 
its  sentiment  may  be  gathered  from  the  last 
line  of  the  refrain,  which  was: 

What  ails  old  Brown,  the  nut? 

The  small  souvenir  edition  of  the  Dispatch, 
prepared  by  the  facile  column  conductor,  con- 


24  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

tained  the  words  of  the  songs,  and  as  the  red 
wine  flowed  there  manifested  itself  a  tendency 
on  the  part  of  the  company  to  eliminate  solos 
and  make  each  song  unanimous;  and  though 
the  most  amiably  disposed  person  could  not 
have  called  the  choruses  musically  harmonious 
the  most  crabbed  person  could  not,  on  the 
other  hand,  have  denied  that  they  reflected  a 
harmony  of  another  kind — that  of  good  fellow 
ship. 

When  the  coffee  had  been  served,  cigarettes 
and  cigars  were  passed.  The  guest  of  honour 
accepted  one  of  the  cigars,  but  after  inspecting 
it  with  a  frankly  doubting  eye  laid  it  on  the 
tablecloth  and  drew  out  and  lighted  the  large 
Havana  with  which  he  had  had  the  prescience 
to  fortify  himself.  Though  the  cocktails  had 
tasted  rather  raw  and  the  wine  rather  acid 
they  had  conjointly  served  their  beneficial 
purpose.  More  than  ever  before,  perhaps, 
Henry  Bell  Brown  was  feeling  worldly,  success 
ful,  important.  He  settled  back  in  his  chair, 
blew  out  a  cloud  of  fragrant  smoke,  and  looked 
about  him.  Here  were  more  than  twenty  men 
gathered  to  do  him  honour.  Wasn't  that  proof 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  25 

of  his  importance?  Suppose  any  one  of  the 
others  had  been  leaving  the  Dispatch — would 
he  have  received  a  testimonial  banquet?  No. 
Because  none  of  them  had  personality.  It's 
personality  that  gets  you  somewhere. 

Not  that  this  banquet  was  anything  remark 
able,  at  that.  From  cocktails  to  coffee  you 
couldn't  call  the  dinner  or  the  drinks  either 
good  or  bad.  Everything  was  middling.  But 
then,  let  it  be  remembered,  the  dinner  and  the 
drinks  weren't  his  affair.  Others  had  provided 
them.  The  sole  things  he  had  provided  were 
his  presence  and  his  own  cigar.  And  both,  he 
felt,  were  of  the  best. 

"For  my  part,"  he  announced,  expansively, 
to  Bolton,  "  I  can  stand  a  poor  dinner  and  poor 
drinks  all  right  if  I'm  sure  of  a  first-class  smoke 
afterward." 

"Well,"  approved  Bolton,  not  without  a 
show  of  admiration,  "you  can  afford  good 
cigars,  so  why  shouldn't  you  have  them?  Be 
lieve  me,  I'm  not  going  to  spend  my  life  slaving 
for  a  little  bit  of  a  salary  on  the  Dispatch,  either. 
I've  got  my  eye  on  something  that  looks  pretty 
good  right  now;  if  it  goes  through,  you  and  I 


26  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

may  be  doing  a  little  business  by  this  time 
next  year." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,  old  man.  Something  in  the 
advertising  line?  " 

"More  or  less.  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
just  what  it  is — seeing  it's  you.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  a  society  paper  called  Tittle- 
Tattle?" 

"  Seems  to  me  I  have." 

"Well,  they've  approached  me  with  a  propo 
sition  to  edit  it.  I'd  have  a  good  deal  to  do 
with  the  business  end,  too.  I'm  dickering  now 
for  stock  in  the  company." 

"We  might  be  able  to  give  you  some  of  our 
business,"  said  Brown  with  a  large  air  of  lib 
erality.  "Just  let  me  know  if  there's  anything 
our  corporation  can  do  for  you.  Anyhow, 
drop  in  our  offices  and  see  me  once  in  a  while. 
I  want  to  keep  in  touch  with  you,  Bolton.  Be 
sides,  I'd  like  to  show  you  the  layout  we've  got 
up  there.  It's  about  the  most  refined  and 
tasty  proposition  in  the  line  of  office  decoration 
that  you'll  find  in  this  town  or  any  other. 
Here's  one  of  my  new  cards."  As  he  spoke 
he  drew  an  engraved  pasteboard  from  his 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  27 

wallet    and    passed    it   to   the    other.     It    was 
arranged  as  follows: 


EFFICIENCY 


MR.  H.  BELL  BROWN 

REPRESENTING 

THE  PUBLICITY  DIRECTORS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES,  INC. 
ADVERTISING  ENGINEERS 

CORNER  FIFTH  AVENUE  AND  FORTY-SECOND  STREET 


"Very  neat,"  said  Bolton,  regarding  the 
card  appreciatively  before  putting  it  in  his 
pocket.  "I'll  surely  run  in  on  you  before  long. 
By  the  way,  I  see  you're  using  an  initial  instead 
of  your  first  name  in  full.  I  like  that.  Seems 
to  give  a  name  character." 

"That's  just  the  idea,"  Brown  said.  "As  the 
president  of  our  company  says:  *A  name's 
nothing  but  a  trademark.'  If  a  man's  going 
into  the  advertising  profession  the  first  thing 
for  him  to  advertise  is  his  own  name." 

Bolton  agreed. 

Then,  as  the  coffee  was  drunk  and  the  cigars 
and  cigarettes  were  alight,  he  rapped  upon  the 


28  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

table  for  order,  and  in  his  capacity  as  master 
of  ceremonies  rose  and  said  some  very  flattering 
things  of  H.  Bell  Brown.  He  mentioned  sev 
eral  of  Brown's  most  notable  achievements  as  a 
reporter,  referred  to  his  ability  to  "meet  big 
men  on  their  own  level,"  and  spoke  of  the  uni 
versal  high  regard  in  which  Brown  was,  he 
affirmed,  held  not  only  outside  the  office  but 
within  it. 

"And  now,"  he  finished,  "H.  Bell  Brown  is 
leaving  us.  It  was  from  the  first  inevitable. 
We  have  all  recognized  that  to  a  man  like  him 
the  position  of  star  reporter  on  the  Dispatch 
could  at  most  be  but  a  stepping-stone  to  higher 
achievement.  Who  could  meet  H.  Bell  Brown 
without  realizing  at  once  that  the  Fair  Goddess 
of  Success  had  put  her  hallmark  on  him?  But 
successful  as  he  is  certain  to  be,  affluent  as  he  is 
assuredly  destined  to  become,  we,  his  fellow- 
workers,  gathered  here  to  do  him  honour,  ask 
him,  as  he  looks  back  upon  this  happy,  this 
memorable  evening,  to  recollect  one  thing 
and  one  thing  only — namely,  that  the  tribute 
we  are  paying  him  is  not  a  tribute  to  his  talents, 
his  energies,  his  achievements;  that  it  is  not  a 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  £9 

tribute  to  those  qualities  in  him  which  point  so 
certainly  toward  great  material  prosperity; 
but  that,  upon  the  contrary,  this  farewell 
banquet  represents  a  tribute  to  his  personal 
character — that  it  is  a  spontaneous  expression 
of  our  esteem,  our  affection,  for  one  who  will 
always  be  our  comrade  and  our  friend.  Gentle 
men,  I  ask  you  to  rise  aud  join  me  in 
drinking  the  health  of  H.  Bell  Brown — the 
Man." 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  how  much  of  the 
applause  that  followed  was  for  H.  Bell  Brown — 
the  Man — and  how  much  for  Bolton,  whose 
talent  for  oratory  was  now  made  known  for 
the  first  time  to  his  colleagues.  The  toast 
was,  however,  drunk  enthusiastically,  and  in 
a  variety  of  liquors;  for  though  the  red  wine 
was  holding  out,  a  number  of  the  men  had 
ordered  further  drinks  on  their  own  account. 
Even  Murphy,  the  city-hall  man,  who  had  at 
first  rebelled  at  the  expense  involved,  now 
had  a  highball  of  his  own  purchasing  before 
him,  and  was  among  the  noisiest  of  the 
enthusiasts.  As  the  glasses  were  returned  to 
the  table  Otis  started  "For  He's  a  Jolly  Good 


30  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

Fellow!"  and  the  song  was  bawled  feelingly  by 
all. 

Next  the  column  conductor  read  a  humor 
ous  prophecy  in  which  the  various  men  present 
were  shown  as  his  waggishness  suggested  they 
would  be  twenty  years  hence.  The  accented 
individual  in  this  forecast  was,  of  course,  H.  Bell 
Brown,  the  scene  being  laid  at  a  banquet 
given  by  Brown  at  his  mansion  on  Fifth 
Avenue — formerly  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
of  Art.  At  this  banquet  the  members  of  the 
Dispatch  staff  gathered,  and  each  told  his 
story. 

While  the  column  conductor  was  reading 
his  prophecy  Bolton  left  his  place  and  went 
to  where  Otis  was  sitting,  halfway  down  the 
table. 

"I'm  going  to  call  on  you  next,"  he  said, 
"to  present  the  cup." 

"No,  you're  not,"  Otis  answered.  "I've  got 
the  cup  here,  but  I'm  not  the  one  to  present  it." 
He  reached  under  the  table,  brought  up  a  silver 
smith's  bag  of  soft  maroon  cloth,  and  placed  it 
in  Bolton's  hands. 

"Of  course  you'll  present  it!"  Bolton  insisted. 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  31 

"No,"  said  Otis,  firmly.  "You've  got  to 
do  it.  The  whole  object  is  to  do  it  right — to 
make  old  Brown  feel  his  oats.  Well,  I'm  no 
talker,  and  you  are.  You've  amazed  us  all. 
You're  a  wonder.  Give  him  some  more  of  that 
Grade  A  oratory  of  yours.  Tell  him  how  we 
love  him." 

He  was  so  evidently  in  earnest  that  Bolton 
yielded. 

"Just  as  you  like,"  he  said.  "Only  you  got 
this  party  up,  Jimmy,  and  you  ought  to  say 
something." 

"All  right.  I  have  something  very  effective 
to  say  after  you  give  him  the  cup.  Just  wait. 
You'll  see  who  turns  out  to  be  the  real  orator 
of  the  evening!" 

Thus  to  Otis's  satisfaction  it  came  about  that 
when  the  column  conductor's  prophecy  had 
been  heard  Bolton  rose  and,  uncorking  new  vials 
of  praise,  presented  the  cup  to  Brown. 

Still  seated,  Brown  took  the  vessel  in  one 
hand  and  looked  at  the  side  on  which  the  names 
of  the  donors  were  engraved.  The  engraver 
had  certainly  managed  very  well,  he  thought, 
to  get  so  many  names  on  a  surface  so  com- 


32  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

paratively  small.     He  turned  the  cup  and  read 
the  inscription : 

TO 
HENRY  BELL  BROWN 

IN  TOKEN  OF 
THE    ESTEEM,    ADMIRATION,    AND    AFFECTION 

OF 
His  FRIENDS  AND  CO-WORKERS 

ON  THE  STAFF  OF 
THE  NEW  YORK  EVENING  DISPATCH 

"Very  neat,"  he  remarked  to  Bolton. 

Meanwhile  the  assembled  donors  of  the  cup 
were  shouting  and  applauding. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Brownie?"  howled 
Otis. 

"He's — all — right! "  from  everyone. 

"Who's— all— right?" 

"Brownie!" 

"Speech!     Speech!" 

Then,  looking  very  clean,  very  well-dressed, 
very  composed,  Henry  Bell  Brown  stood  up. 
In  planning  his  remarks  he  had  at  first  thought 
of  beginning  with  some  informal  introductory 
word,  such  as  "Boys"  or  "Fellows";  but  now, 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  33 

what  with  the  wine,  the  enthusiasm,  and  the 
oratory  of  Bolton,  he  felt  that  informality  would 
seem  a  little  out  of  place,  coming  from  him. 
The  note  for  him  to  strike  was  not  that  of  famil 
iarity  but  of  fine  and  gracious  dignity. 

"Mister  Toastmaster,  and  gentlemen  of  the 
staff  of  the  New  York  Evening  Dispatch" — 
thus  impressively  did  he  begin.  Then  after  a 
weighty  pause  he  entered  upon  the  body  of  his 
address. 

His  first  duty  was,  of  course,  to  make  them 
think  that  he  was  satisfied. 

"I  feel  sure,"  he  said,  "that  no  words  of 
mine  can  make  you  realize  more  fully  than 
you  already  must,  how  thoroughly  I  am  pleased 
by  the  tributes  you  have  paid  me  to-night,  in 
words,  in  actions,  and  in  giving  me  this" — he 
hesitated;  he  had  meant  to  say  "handsome," 
but  the  word  would  not  come  out — "this  loving 
cup.  How  true  it  is,  my  friends,  that  sentiment 
is  something  that  rises  above  all  that  is  mun 
dane — all  financial  considerations,  all  the  crass 
materialism  that  surrounds  us  in  our  daily  life. 
How  true !  And  what  better  illustration  of  this 
truth  could  we  have  than  is  presented  here  to- 


34  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

night?  Look  at  this  banquet!  Do  you  think, 
gentlemen,  that  because  this  banquet  is  held  in 
an  unpretentious  and  inexpensive  place,  that 
that  makes  it  any  the  less  significant  to  me? 
No !  I  am  sure  you  all  know  me  too  well  for  that. 
If  this  dinner  had  cost  ten  dollars  a  plate,  still 
to  me  it  would  not  be  any  more  desirable.  Be 
cause,  my  friends,  as  I  have  said  before,  no 
money  value  can  be  placed  on  sentiment.  And  so 
also  with  this  cup.  Do  you  suppose,  gentlemen 
of  the  New  York  Evening  Dispatch,  that  if  this 
cup  were  two  feet  tall  instead  of  only  about  six 
inches,  it  would  mean  any  more  to  me?  Again 
I  say,  No!  Because  it  is  not  the  weight  or 
size  of  a  loving  cup  that  counts.  Where  friend 
ship  and  admiration  are  concerned,  gold  and 
silver  are  the  merest  dross. 

"No,  gentlemen!  The  thing  that  counts 
is  what  that  loving  cup  means.  The  thing  that 
counts  is  the  sentiment  with  which  that  cup  is 
given  and  the  sentiment  with  which  it  is  re 
ceived. 

"I  want  to  say  to  you,  gentlemen,  that  I  shall 
always  keep  this  little  cup  before  me.  And  I 
want  to  say  further  that  to  me  it  will  always  be 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  35 

a  big  cup.  For  sentiment  and  sentiment  alone 
is  the  standard  by  which  such  a  thing  must  be 
measured. 

"And,  gentlemen,  each  time  I  look  at  this  cup 
I  shall  receive  anew  the  message  you  have  given 
me  on  this  occasion.  Each  time  I  look  at  this 
cup  I  shall  say  to  myself:  'Henry  Bell  Brown, 
remember  what  that  cup  means.  It  means  that 
the  men  with  whom  you  were  associated  on  the 
Dispatch  believed  in  you,  had  confidence  in  you, 
picked  you  as  a  man  who  was  destined  to  win 
out  in  life!  They  placed  their  faith  in  you. 
Therefore  it  is  up  to  you  to  show  them  that  they 
were  right;  that  besides  being  a  success  in  a  small 
way  on  the  paper,  you  can  be  a  success  in  a  larger 
way,  a  success  in  other  fields;  so  that  some  day 
every  man  who  participated  in  giving  you  the 
banquet  and  the  cup  can  look  back  and  take 
real  pride  in  having  done  so.  And  why?  Be 
cause  he  picked  you  for  a  winner,  and  you  have 
won!'  That,  gentlemen,  is  the  message  this 
little  cup  will  give  me  when  I  look  at  it  as  the 
years  roll  by." 

Having  spoken  thus  he  sat  down,  while  his 
hosts  rising  to  their  feet  clapped  their  hands  and 


36  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

cheered.  Again  he  was  hailed  in  song;  then 
Bolton  called  on  Jimmy  Otis. 

"Fellows,"  said  Otis,  "I  have  no  doubt  that  I 
could  deliver  a  speech  that  would  make  you  all 
burst  into  tears  and  go  home.  But  I  have 
something  here  that  speaks  louder  than  words. 
The  publisher  has  asked  me  to  fill  the  loving  cup 
with  champagne  at  his  expense,  and  keep  it  full 
until  it  has  passed  round  the  table  and  everyone 
has  had  all  he  wants — everyone,  that  is,  except 
Murphy.  And  even  Murphy  can  have  all  that 
is  good  for  him." 

The  publisher  now  became  by  universal  ac 
claim  "A  jolly  good  fellow  .  .  .  which 
nobody  can  deny";  after  which  the  all-right- 
ness  of  Otis  was  loudly  and  rhythmically  pro 
claimed. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  guest  of  honour 
the  uncorking  of  champagne  formed  an  apex 
to  the  celebration,  contributing  that  touch  of 
class  which  hitherto  had  been  so  sorely  needed. 
He  counted  the  fresh  bottles  that  were  opened 
as  the  cup  progressed  upon  its  way,  and  was 
pleased  to  notice  that  as  many  as  four  quarts 
had  been  required.  Hitherto  the  publisher 


A    LITTLE    BANQUET  37 

of  the  Dispatch  had  seemed  to  him  austere,  but 
now  he  perceived  that  this  exalted  personage 
had  his  human  side  after  all.  He  wished  that 
the  publisher  had  come  to  the  banquet  and 
brought  the  managing  editor  and  the  city  editor 
with  him.  Maybe  they  would  have  been  in 
evening  dress.  That  was  the  kind  of  thing 
this  party  called  for:  Style — people  of  real 
consequence — anything  to  tone  it  up. 

The  loving  cup  standing  on  the  table  was  the 
first  thing  he  saw  when  he  awoke  on  Sunday 
morning.  He  lay  for  a  time  regarding  it.  No, 
it  certainly  wasn't  much  of  a  cup.  As  far  as 
that  went  it  hadn't  looked  like  much  of  a  cup 
last  night;  but  now  in  the  cold  morning  light  it 
seemed  smaller  still.  And  that  was  just  the 
point.  It  typified,  did  that  cup,  the  quality  of 
last  night's  party.  Of  course  it  was  well  meant. 
But  it  was  cheap. 


CHAPTER    THREE 

AN     ADVERTISING     ENGINEER 

THE  next  day,  Monday,  between  nine  and 
ten  A.M.,  Mr.  H.  Bell  Brown,  wearing  a 
neat  business  suit  and  spats,  and  carry 
ing  a  cane,  arrived  at  the  impressive  offices  of 
The  Publicity  Directors  of  the  United  States, 
Inc.  —  Advertising  Engineers  —  and  passing 
through  the  wicket  gate,  with  a  nod  to  the  red 
headed  young  lady  in  attendance,  strode  across 
the  thick  green  carpet,  the  tone  of  which  set  off 
the  tint  of  the  young  lady's  hair,  to  the  door  of  a 
certain  private  office  upon  the  ground-glass  panel 
of  which  the  name  H.  Bell  Brown  was  already 
emblazoned  in  small  artistic  letters  of  gold. 

The  office  was  the  sixth  in  a  row  set  off  by  a 
partition  of  chastely  tinted  woodwork  and 
ground  glass,  each  with  a  name  upon  the  door. 
Thus,  an  observer  familiar  with  the  official 
personnel  of  The  Publicity  Directors  of  the 

38 


AN    ADVERTISING    ENGINEER    39 

United  States,  Inc. — Advertising  Engineers — 
might  learn  that  the  first  room,  somewhat 
larger  than  the  others,  was  occupied  by  Berg 
Ledbetter,  president  of  the  corporation,  and 
that  the  respective  offices  of  the  secretary  and 
treasurer,  the  office  manager,  the  efficiency 
director,  and  the  chief  solicitor — a  title  of  no 
legal  implication — following  in  sequence,  were 
interposed  between  that  of  the  president  and 
that  of  Brown. 

This  layout,  as  it  was  sometimes  called,  sug 
gesting,  as  it  did,  a  cross  between  a  clubhouse 
and  a  bank,  was  calculated  to  reassure  the 
doubter  and  to  make  the  guilty  feel  respectable. 
And  that  was  desirable. 

Brown  spent  the  morning  arranging  his  desk, 
making  initial  plans,  and  dictating  letters  to 
various  business  men  with  whom  he  had  be 
come  acquainted  as  a  reporter,  announcing  his 
change  of  occupation  and  his  readiness  to  place 
at  their  disposal  the  services  of  The  Publicity 
Directors  of  the  United  States,  Inc. — Advertis 
ing  Engineers — whose  occupation  it  was  to 
formulate  constructive  advertising  campaigns, 
to  prepare  artistic  illustrations  and  hard-hitting 


40  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

copy,  and  to  place  these  to  the  best  advantage. 
In  these  letters  he  used  the  words  "psychology" 
and  "psychological,"  but  did  not  speak  of 
"functioning" — that  term  not  having  entered 
the  vocabulary  of  advertising  until  some  years 
later.  H.  Bell  Brown,  you  see,  had  been  pre 
paring  himself  in  advance  for  his  new  work. 

At  midday  Ledbetter  entered  Brown's  office, 
welcomed  him  to  the  employ  of  The  Publicity 
Directors  of  the  United  States,  Inc. — Advertis 
ing  Engineers — (always  written  in  red  capitals 
in  the  firm's  letters)  and  invited  him  to  join 
several  members  of  the  corporation  at  luncheon, 
for  a  "conference."  Brown  appreciated  the 
word,  and  thereafter  made  it  his.  Never  again 
during  business  hours  was  he  known  merely  to 
talk  with  people.  Instead,  he  held  conferences. 
If  someone  entered  his  office  or  he  entered  the 
office  of  someone  else  a  conference  was  thereby 
automatically  created.  Nor  did  he  ever 
"solicit"  business  after  the  manner  of  the 
crass  advertising  man.  He  merely  "conferred" 
upon  the  subject. 

Other  expressions,  too,  there  were,  belong 
ing  to  the  terminology  of  The  Publicity  Direc- 


AN    ADVERTISING    ENGINEER    41 

tors  of  the  United  States,  Inc. — Advertising 
Engineers.  Being  engineers  instead  of  mere 
advertising  agents,  the  corporation  required  its 
employees  to  use  the  word  "profession"  where- 
ever  possible,  instead  of  the  word  "business," 
while  references  to  the  advertising  "game" 
were  regarded  with  horror.  Similarly  the  cor 
poration  had  clients,  not  customers.  Stenog 
raphers  taking  dictation  were  trained  to  watch 
for  crude  expressions  whiqh  might  accidentally 
occur,  and  to  correct  these  hi  transcription  by 
the  substitution  of  an  elegance.  "Psychology" 
was  perhaps  the  corporation's  leading  word; 
but  "synchronize,"  "coordinate,"  "merchan 
dise" — as  a  verb — and  "standardize"  were  not 
neglected. 

And  so  far  as  possible  the  corporation  not 
only  talked  standardization  but  practised  it. 
Its  three  leading  lights  lived  up  sartorially  to 
their  professional  aspiration  by  wearing  braided 
cutaway  coats;  all  letters  were  required  to  be 
written  with  a  certain  margin  and  certain 
scheme  of  spacing,  and  all  dates  were  spelled 
out  in  full.  Moreover,  there  were  certain  stand 
ard  paragraphs  covering  certain  subjects,  so 


42  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

that  any  officer  or  employee  of  the  corporation 
could  drop  them  into,  a  letter  at  whatever  point 
he  pleased,  merely  by  saying  to  the  stenog 
rapher.  "Insert  M.  paragraph" — meaning  the 
standard  paragraph  on  merchandising;  or  "S. 
C.  paragraph" — meaning  the  standard  para 
graph  on  synchronization  and  coordination;  or 
*'B.  S.  paragraph" — meaning  the  standard 
paragraph  on  better  service — which,  however, 
was  spoken  of  in  the  paragraph  itself  as  "service 
of  the  better  sort." 

The  first  day's  conference  brought  definite 
results.  On  the  way  to  the  restaurant  with 
Ledbetter  and  the  others  Brown  bought  a  copy 
of  the  noon  edition  of  the  Dispatch — just  to  see 
how  the  old  sheet  was  struggling  on  without 
him- — and  there  on  the  first  page  found,  to  his 
amazement,  something  he  had  never  dreamed 
of  finding.  It  was  a  heading  dealing  with 
himself: 

BANQUET   TENDERED    TO   RETIRING 
DISPATCH  MAN 

DINNER  AND  LOVING  CUP  GIVEN  BY  NEWSPAPER 
ASSOCIATES  TO  H.  BELL  BROWN 


AN    ADVERTISING    ENGINEER    43 

Though  short,  the  story  was  eminently  gratify 
ing.  It  not  only  spoke  of  Brown  as  one  of  the 
ablest  men  on  the  Dispatch  staff  and  declared 
that  he  would  be  generally  missed,  but  men 
tioned  Ledbetter  and  The  Publicity  Directors 
of  the  United  States,  Inc. — Advertising  En 
gineers. 

To  Brown  this  item  gave  triple  satisfaction. 
He  was  pleased  that  it  had  been  printed  at  all, 
more  pleased  that  it  appeared  on  the  first  page, 
and  still  more  pleased  that  Ledbetter 's  name 
and  that  of  the  corporation  were  included. 
For  the  latter  point  gave  him  an  excuse  to  show 
the  little  write-up  forthwith  to  his  employer. 
That  the  writer  of  the  article  had  foreseen  such 
a  possibility  and  had  with  deliberate  amiable 
purpose  mentioned  Ledbetter  and  the  corpora 
tion  did  not  occur  to  Brown,  who  regarded  the 
inclusion  of  them  as  a  mere  happy  accident. 
Nor  did  it  occur  to  him  to  wonder  how  the  story 
had  come  to  be  written.  Had  he  wondered  he 
would  probably  have  guessed  that  Bolton  did  it, 
but  in  that  he  would  have  been  mistaken. 
The  anonymous  beneficence  was  the  work  of 
Jimmy  Otis.  Jimmy  had  taken  the  pains,  that 


44  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

morning,  to  go  down  to  the  business  office  and 
ascertain  the  name  of  the  company  and  its  presi 
dent;  then  he  had  written  the  story,  taken  it 
to  the  managing  editor,  and  requested  him  to 
make  a  "Must"  of  it. 

"What's  the  idea?"  the  managing  editor 
asked  him. 

"It  might  help  Brown  to  get  off  on  his  right 
foot  in  his  new  job,"  said  Otis. 

"But  the  name  of  the  company — and  this 
man  Ledbetter,"  muttered  the  managing  editor, 
shaking  his  head.  "It's  free  advertising." 

"Have  a  heart,"  urged  Otis. 

And  though  the  policy  of  the  Dispatch  in  such 
matters  was  habitually  anything  but  generous, 
and  though  the  managing  editor  was  much 
more  skeptical  concerning  Brown  than  Otis 
was,  he  thought  enough  of  Otis  to  do  as  he 
requested. 

"Must!"  he  scrawled  in  blue  pencil  at  the 
head  of  Otis's  copy,  and  into  the  paper  it 
went. 

It  seems  not  unlikely  that  had  Brown  known 
all  this  he  would  not  have  been  "in  conference" 
when  some  six  weeks  later  Otis  stopped  in  at 


AN    ADVERTISING    ENGINEER    45 

the  offices  of  The  Publicity  Directors  of  the 
United  States,  Inc. — Advertising  Engineers — 
to  pay  a  friendly  call.  But  how  was  Brown 
to  know?  He  was  busy  composing  copy  for 
an  ad.  Already  the  Dispatch  and  the  men 
on  the  Dispatch  seemed  a  long,  long  way 
behind  him.  Otis  didn't  interest  him  any 
way.  Bolton  was  the  only  man  down  there  who 
counted. 

The  item  did  start  Brown  off  as  Otis  had 
hoped  it  would.  Ledbetter  not  only  liked  to 
see  his  own  name  in  print  but  appreciated  as 
only  an  advertising  engineer  can,  the  advantage 
of  so  fine  a  free  advertisement  for  the  corpora 
tion.  Moreover,  this  tangible  evidence  that 
Brown's  former  associates  held  him  in  such  high 
regard  crystallized  Ledbetter's  favourable  opin 
ion  of  his  new  employee.  That  was  the  first 
result  of  the  initial  conference,  and  the  second 
was  corollary  to  it.  On  that  very  day  the  ac 
counts  of  several  well-established  clients  of  the 
corporation  were  assigned  to  Brown  to  handle; 
and  even  though  one  of  these  was  the  account 
of  an  oil  company  claiming  to  own  wells  some 
where  in  Oklahoma  and  desirous  of  selling  stock 


46  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

at  bargain  prices,  it  was  remarked  in  the  office 
that  no  new  man  had  ever  before  been  started 
off  with  such  a  volume  of  important  business  to 
look  after. 

Nor  did  Brown  himself  fail  accurately  to 
gauge  the  value  of  the  puff  in  the  Dispatch. 
It  is  doubtful  if  any  one  else  perceived  as  clearly 
as  he  what  a  splendid  service  it  had  rendered 
him.  It  had  put  him  ahead  half  a  year  at  least; 
perhaps  a  full  year.  Such  is  the  power  of  pub 
licity  !  In  thinking  of  what  the  little  news  item 
had  done  for  him  he  forgot  for  a  time  what  had 
been  the  occasion  for  its  publication,  and  when 
he  did  stop  to  reflect  that  the  banquet  had  in 
point  of  fact  been  at  the  bottom  of  it  all  the 
thought  amused  him.  The  banquet  had  not 
amounted  to  much,  but  the  story  of  the  banquet 
— that  was  indeed  a  different  thing!  The  cup 
had  not  amounted  to  much,  but  the  mention  of 
it  in  a  newspaper  turned  it  as  though  by  magic 
into  a  thing  of  value.  The  men  at  the  banquet 
had  not  amounted  to  much,  but  those  who 
read  about  the  banquet  had  no  way  of  finding 
that  out.  Turning  the  matter  over  in  his  mind 
thus,  H.  Bell  Brown  developed  a  shrewd  theory 


AN    ADVERTISING    ENGINEER    47 

as  to  wherein  the  real  value  of  a  testimonial 
banquet  lies.  He  made  a  mental  note  of  his 
discovery,  for  future  reference. 

So,  rapidly,  occurred  what  Ledbetter  called 
Brown's  "induction"  into  the  profession  of 
advertising  engineering.  It  would  seem  that 
he  was  cut  out  for  it.  Either  he  learned  with  a 
speed  hardly  short  of  miraculous,  or  else  adver 
tising  engineering  may  be  mastered  in  a  much 
shorter  space  of  time  than  engineering  in  the 
commoner  branches.  Had  he,  for  example, 
become  an  automobile  engineer,  a  constructing 
engineer,  or  a  civil  engineer,  instead  of  an  adver 
tising  engineer,  and  progressed  as  rapidly,  he 
would  have  been  building  motor  cars,  sky 
scrapers,  steel  bridges,  or  railroads  within  a  year 
of  the  time  that  he  commenced  his  scientific 
delvings.  For  within  the  year  he  was  quite 
at  home  in  all  branches  of  the  work  of  The 
Publicity  Directors  of  the  United  States, 
Inc. — Advertising  Engineers — and  was  handling 
some  of  the  corporation's  most  impressive 
clients. 

Among  these  accounts  was  that  of  the  Gil- 
fillan  Laboratories,  manufacturing  chemists, 


48  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

and  it  was  through  the  evolution  of  an  idea  con 
ceived  by  H.  Bell  Brown  in  connection  with  a 
new  digestive  pill  being  brought  out  by  the  Gil- 
fillan  Laboratories  that  the  next  great  change 
in  his  career  occurred. 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

THE      SUNSHINE      IDEA 

ROWN  had  been  with  The  Publicity  Di 
rectors  of  the  United  States,  Inc. — 
Advertising  Engineers — for  a  number 
of  years  and  had  more  than  doubled  the  annual 
expenditure  for  advertising  of  the  Gilfillan 
Laboratories  when  old  Gilfillan  sent  for  him  one 
day  to  discuss  plans  by  which  his  new  digestive 
pills  might  be  eased  in  large  quantities  down  the 
public  throat.  Gilfillan,  himself  a  chemist,  had 
taken  a  personal  interest  in  the  compounding 
of  the  pill,  and  he  had  hit  upon  a  combination 
possessing  medicinal  properties  and  a  flavour 
which  he  believed  would  cause  the  pill  to  be 
received  with  cries  of  joy  by  a  dyspeptic  world. 

While  the  chemist  described  the  pill  and  dis 
cussed  his  hopes  for  it,  Brown  sat  by  and  lis 
tened  in  cold  professional  silence.  For  though 
he  knew  Gilfillan  well  by  this  time  he  made  it 

49 


50  SUNBEAMS,     INC. 

an  invariable  rule  when  in  conference  never  to 
let  his  client  forget  that  he,  H.  Bell  Brown,  was 
an  advertising  engineer,  and  that  the  dignity, 
mystery,  inscrutability  of  the  profession  of  ad 
vertising  engineering  was  in  his  keeping. 

"How  far  has  work  on  this  pill  advanced?" 
he  demanded  when  Gilfillan  stopped  speaking. 

"It  is  finished,"  said  the  chemist.  "We've 
even  got  the  bottle  and  the  package." 

"Mr.  Gilfillan,"  said  Brown,  "have  you  for 
gotten  our  talk  when  you  were  putting  Boriol 
upon  the  market?  Have  you  forgotten  how  I 
then  pointed  out  that  the  science  of  advertising 
engineering  does  not  properly  begin  with  the 
mere  merchandising  of  a  product,  but  ought  to 
be  applied  from  the  moment  that  a  product  is  in 
process  of  creation?  " 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Gilfillan,  "but  we 
made  a  go  of  Boriol  just  the  same." 

"Boriol,"  said  Brown,  "was  never  the  success 
it  should  have  been.  I  was  not  called  in  soon 
enough.  I  should  like  to  see  a  sample  of  the 
new  pill  and  the  container." 

Gilfillan  produced  them  from  a  drawer  of  his 
desk. 


THE    SUNSHINE    IDEA  51 

The  brown  cardboard  wrapper  inclosing  the 
bottle  bore  in  large  black  capital  letters  the 
legend:  Gilfillan's  Dyspepsia  Pills.  Below  was 
a  list  of  many  unpleasant  symptoms  and 
conditions  for  which  the  tablets  were  recom 
mended.  The  bottle  within  was  also  brown, 
and  the  pills,  which  had  a  glossy  coating,  were 
of  an  even  darker  shade  of  brown. 

The  chemist  watched  the  advertising  engineer 
as  he  progressed  with  his  inspection. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  as  the  latter  laid  the 
packet,  bottle,  and  pills  upon  the  desk  again. 

"  You  desire  my  opinion?  " 

"Of  course." 

"No  good,"  said  Brown,  tersely.  He  waved 
a  hand  dismissively  at  the  articles  he  had  just 
put  down. 

"No  good?"  cried  Gilfillan.  "You  must  be 
crazy,  Brown !  Why,  what  do  you  know  about 
it?  What  do  you  know  about  a  pill  you  haven't 
even  sampled?  You  don't  even  know  what's  in 
it!" 

Brown  set  his  lips,  gazed  sternly  at  the  chem 
ist  for  a  moment,  then  bringing  his  fist  down 
upon  the  desk  replied  forcefully:  "No,  sir! 


52  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

I  don't  know  what's  in  it.  And  I  don't  care 
what's  in  it.  What's  in  it  doesn't  matter. 
This  is  a  proposition  of  psychology.  As  a 
merchandising  proposition  I  tell  you  this  pill  of 
yours  has  nothing  to  recommend  it." 

The  chemist  looked  angry,  but  as  he  opened 
his  mouth  to  speak  Brown  stopped  him  with  a 
question.  To  stop  a  client  or  a  prospective 
client  with  a  question  is  a  part  of  the  science  of 
advertising  engineering. 

"Mr.  Gilfillan,"  Brown  demanded,  "do  you 
know  how  many  dyspeptics  there  are  in  the 
United  States?" 

"Nobody  knows  that,"  the  other  replied. 

Brown  had  the  air  of  one  who  does  not  deign 
explicitly  to  deny  a  foolish  statement. 

"There  are  in  the  United  States  twenty-two 
million  five  hundred  thousand  cases  of  chronic 
dyspepsia.  That  is  in  round  numbers.  Be 
yond  these  chronic  cases  there  are  some  seven 
teen  million  erratic  or  semi-regular  cases. 
That  makes  a  total  of  thirty -nine  millions. 
There  is  still  another  class  of  cases,  which  we 
may  describe  as  casuals;  these  being  sporadic 
cases  of  mere  indigestion  or  biliousness,  usually 


THE    SUNSHINE    IDEA  53 

the  result  of  overeating  or  overdrinking,  and 
reaching  the  astonishing  yearly  total  of  fifty- 
three  millions." 

"Where  do  you  get  your  figures?"  Gilfillan 
demanded. 

"From  our  own  research  department," 
proudly  answered  the  advertising  engineer. 

"All  right,"  said  the  chemist,  impressed  but 
not  cowed,  "what's  the  answer?" 

"The  answer  is  that  the  successful  pill,  the 
big  pill,  the  world-beating  pill  has  not  yet  been 
created,"  Brown  declared.  "And  that  brings 
us  to  the  question  whether  or  not  you  propose 
to  be  the  genius  who  shall  produce  the  ultimate 
pill — the  pill  that  will  be  the  acknowledged 
leader — that  will  be  bought  by  the  majority 
of  these  millions  of  sufferers."  He  paused  im 
pressively;  then  emphasizing  his  words  by 
pounding  his  fist  upon  his  palm  he  continued: 
"Will  you  be  the  manufacturer  of  the  ultimate 
pill,  Mr.  Gilfillan,  or  will  you  not?  Will  you 
seize  the  golden  opportunity  or  will  you  leave  it 
to  be  seized  by  someone  else?  " 

"But  I've  got  the  pill  right  here,"  insisted 
Gilfillan,  indicating  the  bottle  on  the  desk. 


54  SUNBEAMS,    Ixc. 

"No,  sir,  you  have  not!"  said  Brown. 

"But  as  I  said  before,"  exclaimed  the  chem 
ist,  "you  don't  know  what's  in  this  pill  of  mine. 
So  how  can  you " 

"Mr.  Gilfillan,"  broke  in  Brown  with  great 
impressiveness, "  it  is  true,  sir,  that  I  do  not  know 
what  is  in  your  pill.  But  mark  this:  It  is  also 
true  that  I  do  know  what  must  be  in  the  ulti 
mate  pill.  Your  pill,  Mr.  Gilfillan,  does  not 
contain  the  essential  ingredient!" 

"What  is  the  essential  ingredient,  then?" 

Ah!  The  advertising  engineer  tried  not  to 
show  how  much  this  question  pleased  him .  It  was 
the  question  for  which  he  had  been  engineer 
ing  with  every  atom  of  his  professional  skill. 
Moreover,  he  had  managed  to  work  Gilfillan 
into  asking  it  a  little  bit  defiantly,  which  made 
it  all  the  better.  He  chose  to  hold  his  climax. 

"Well,  I  ask  you  what  is  the  chief  symptom 
of  dyspepsia?" 

"Stomach-ache — depression,"  muttered  Gil 
fillan,  groggily. 

"Right!  Depression!  And  what's  the  rem 
edy — the  one  logical,  infallible,  unanswerable, 
inevitable  remedy?  Answer  me  that,  sir!" 


THE    SUNSHINE    IDEA  55 

"Sodium  bicar " 

But  H.  Bell  Brown  would  not  let  his  client 
answer. 

"No,  sir!"  he  broke  in  in  a  triumphant 
shout.  "The  remedy,  Mr.  Gilfillan,  the  remedy 
is  sunshine  /" 

Having  thus  stunned  his  client  he  proceeded 
to  elucidate. 

His  theory  was,  in  brief,  that  dyspepsia  and 
kindred  disorders  of  the  digestive  tract  produce 
pessimism,  melancholy,  gloom;  and,  ergo,  that 
the  things  craved  by  victims  of  such  ailments 
are  optimism,  cheer,  elation — sunshine.  The 
colour  brown,  according  to  the  findings  of  the 
research  department  of  The  Publicity  Direc 
tors  of  the  United  States,  Inc. — Advertising 
Engineers — was  a  depressing  colour.  Obvi 
ously,  then,  it  was  no  colour  for  a  pill  for  indiges 
tion.  What  could  be  more  depressing  to  a 
man  with  the  proverbial  dark-brown  taste  in 
his  mouth  than  the  sight  of  a  dark-brown  pill? 
The  ultimate  pill  must  be  different.  Anybody 
ought  to  be  able  to  see  that. 

All  right,  then — advertise  sunshine.  Call 
your  pills  Sunshine  Tablets,  put  them  in  a 


56  SUNBEAMS,     INC. 

bright  yellow  bottle,  and  pack  that  bottle  in  a 
carton  also  of  bright  yellow,  with  a  picture  of 
the  sun  printed  in  gold.  And  above  all,  make 
your  tablets  as  yellow  as  the  sun  itself. 

"If  you  could  put  phosphorus  in  them,  so 
they'd  be  luminous  at  night,"  he  told  Gilfillan, 
"  that  would  be  much  better." 

It  was  on  the  subject  of  the  colour  of  the  pills 
that  Brown  and  his  client  ultimately  broke. 
One  was  thinking  of  chemical,  the  other  of  psy 
chological,  reaction.  Gilfillan  insisted  that  the 
brown  pills  were  medicinally  superior  to  any 
thing  that  could  be  made  in  yellow;  there  were 
chemical  reasons,  he  said,  why  brown  was  best. 
Give  people  relief,  he  contended,  and  they 
wouldn't  care  what  colour  the  pills  were.  He 
wasn't  making  pills  to  please  the  eye,  but  to 
soothe  the  stomach.  Besides,  the  brown  pills 
were  already  in  process  of  manufacture  and  he 
didn't  propose  to  throw  them  away. 

Brown  fought  hard  for  his  idea.  He  delivered 
an  oration  on  the  growing  understanding  of  the 
power  of  mind  over  matter.  Make  a  man  be 
lieve  a  thing  was  going  to  do  him  good  and  it 
would  do  him  good.  Make  him  believe  that 


THE    SUNSHINE    IDEA  57 

it  would  be  good  for  him  to  eat  a  piece  of  yellow 
chalk,  then  he  would  be  benefited  by  that  piece 
of  chalk — more  than  by  a  brown  pill  the  very 
sight  of  which  repelled  him.  This  was  not  a 
proposition  of  medicine  but  of  merchandising. 
What  was  the  good  in  any  pill  if  you  couldn't 
sell  it?  And  what  was  the  harm  in  any  pill  if 
you  could?  It  was  just  plain  psychothera- 
peutics ! 

In  spite  of  all  he  could  say,  however,  the 
advertising  engineer  was  unable  to  make  Gil- 
fillan  give  up  the  brown  pill.  He  left  the  office 
of  the  Gilfillan  Laboratories  late  that  after 
noon  utterly  disgusted  at  the  biased,  narrow- 
minded,  chemical  point  of  view  of  the  proprietor. 

But  if  the  cloud  of  Gilfillan's  stupidity  had 
for  the  time  being  obscured  the  sunshine  idea, 
that  idea  was  too  cosmic  to  suffer  permanent 
eclipse.  Turning  the  matter  over  in  his  mind 
Brown  began  to  see  that  it  was  really  too  big  to 
waste  on  pills.  It  wasn't  only  in  pills  that 
people  wanted  sunshine.  It  wasn't  only  dys 
peptics  who  yearned  for  sunshine  in  their  lives. 
The  quest  for  sunshine  was  the  one  great  hu- 


58  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

man  quest.  The  instinct  to  seek  sunshine  was 
second  only  to  the  instinct  for  self-preservation. 
That  was  true  whether  you  spoke  of  actual  sun 
shine  or  the  sunshine  of  the  spirit.  Did  not  the 
rays  of  the  sun  constitute  a  generally  recognized 
symbol  for  happiness?  Were  not  people  all 
over  the  world  continually  in  search  of  solar 
warmth?  Those  who  could  afford  to  travel 
sought  it  in  Florida,  California,  Honolulu, 
Bermuda,  on  the  Riviera,  in  Sicily,  or  in  Egypt. 
Those  who  could  not  afford  to  travel  sought 
it  in  companionship,  in  entertainment,  at  the 
theatre,  at  the  movies,  or  in  stories  and  poems. 
Next  to  air  and  water,  sunshine  was  the 
element  most  necessary  to  life.  The  great 
majority  of  human  beings  drudged  through  their 
lives  for  money.  And  why  for  money?  Because 
to  nine  persons  out  of  ten  money  is  some 
thing  with  which  sunshine  may  be  bought— 
with  which  a  few  hours  of  happiness  may  be 
obtained. 

The  desire  for  sunshine  made  thieves.  Also 
it  caused  marriages.  Why  did  men  and  women 
wed  if  not  in  the  hope  of  finding  sunshine  in 
matrimonial  life?  And  again,  if  marriage  failed 


THE    SUNSHINE    IDEA  59 

to  bring  sunshine,  then,  far  from  giving  up  the 
quest,  the  disappointed  mates  would  seek  it  in 
divorce  and  remarriage. 

"Why,"  he  said  to  himself,  suddenly,  "the 
sunshine  idea  is  the  biggest  idea  in  the  world ! — 
that  is,  it  would  be  the  biggest  idea  in  the  world 
if  you  could  merchandise  it." 

He  considered  other  merchandising  propo 
sitions  with  which  he  was  familiar.  Take  an 
antiseptic  gargle,  like  Boriol.  The  trouble  with 
an  article  of  that  kind  was  that  the  demand  for 
it  was  necessarily  limited  by  the  number  of 
persons  needing  a  gargle.  Moreover,  though 
there  was  a  handsome  margin  of  profit  in  each 
bottle  sold,  nevertheless  it  cost  a  good  deal  to 
make  the  stuff  and  put  it  up.  Or  take  tooth 
brushes.  Or,  again,  take  hooks  and  eyes.  The 
market  for  hooks  and  eyes  was  limited  to  women. 
And  whereas,  in  order  to  manufacture  hooks 
and  eyes  or  toothbrushes  or  antiseptics  or  almost 
any  other  kind  of  merchandisable  goods,  you 
had  to  have  a  plant  and  labour  and  machinery 
and  raw  material,  you  needed  none  of  those 
things  in  the  sunshine  business.  Merchandise 
sunshine  and  you'd  have  practically  no  over- 


60  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

head.  Sunshine  was  as  free  as  air.  The  supply 
was  unlimited,  and  so  was  the  demand. 

"How  much  better,"  thought  H.  Bell  Brown 
in  a  kind  of  ecstasy,  "to  drop  a  sunbeam  of 
thought  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  human 
mind  than  to  drop  a  pill — even  a  yellow  pill — 
into  those  of  the  human  stomach." 

The  epigram  pleased  him.  He  took  a  pencil 
and  wrote  it  down.  It  seemed  to  point  the  way 
to  something.  With  pencil  and  paper  he  now 
began  to  try  consciously  for  uplifting  epigrams 
and  maxims,  and  presently,  feeling  the  call  more 
and  more  strongly  as  he  essayed  these  sunbeams 
of  thought,  he  found  himself  lapsing  into  verse. 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

GLOOM    CHASERS 

BELL  BROWN  was  not  one  to  burn 
his  bridges  behind  him  without  first 
»  making  certain  of  good  going  on  the 
farther  shore.  His  initial  experiments  with 
sunshine  as  a  business  proposition  began  in  a 
modest  way  and  were  conducted  privately  and 
strictly  on  the  side.  Having  compiled  a  number 
of  verses  and  maxims  laden  with  cheer,  he  took 
them  to  a  friend  of  his  who  was  in  the  business 
of  supplying  "boiler-plate"  pages  to  several 
hundred  newspapers  in  small  towns,  and  pro 
posed  to  furnish  enough  verses  and  paragraphs 
daily  to  fill  a  long  double-column  box. 

The  boiler-plate  man  liked  Brown's  initial 
offerings  and  was  much  pleased  to  find  that  he 
would  contribute  further  material  of  the  kind. 

Arrangements  were  concluded  without  dif 
ficulty,  the  understanding  being  that  the  box 
should  have  the  title  "Gloom  Chasers"  as  its 

61 


62  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

standing  head,  and  that  Brown's  name  should 
appear  conspicuously  thereunder. 

However,  not  long  after  he  had  left  his 
friend's  office  Brown  returned. 

"On  thinking  it  over,"  he  said,  "I  believe 
I'll  use  something  in  the  nature  of  a  nom  de 
plume  with  the  daily  sunbeams.  Instead  of 
using  my  name,  run  them  as  *  by  Belwyn  Brown' 
— Belwyn  with  a  'y-'" 

This  item,  seemingly  so  trifling,  is  recorded 
only  because  it  marks  the  occasion  upon  which 
came  into  being  the  fourth  and  final  version  of 
Brown's  name — for  it  was  as  Belwyn  Brown 
that  he  ultimately  came  to  regard  himself,  and 
to  be  regarded  by  many  thousands  of  others, 
as  a  thoroughly  successful  man.  Probably  he 
never  realized  that  he  had  had  four  names. 
Probably  his  thoughts  never  went  back  of  the 
days  in  which  he  had  been  H.  Bell  Brown. 
Yet  the  fact  remains  that  as  a  boy  he  had  been 
called  "Harry."  Thus  it  is  doubly  true  of  the 
hero  of  this  narrative  that  he  made,  as  the  say 
ing  is,  a  name  for  himself. 

Yet  though  the  first  half  of  his  fourth  and  final 
name  was  at  last  satisfactory  to  him,  he  was 


GLOOM    CHASERS  63 

never  in  his  innermost  heart  quite  satisfied. 
The  name  of  Brown  annoyed  him.  He  would 
have  liked  to  change  it  to  Browning,  Brownell,  or 
Brownstone,  and  even  thought  at  times  of  doing 
so,  but  was  deterred  by  a  memory.  It  was  not, 
as  might  be  supposed,  a  sentimental  memory, 
having  to  do  with  the  preservation  of  his  family 
name,  but  the  memory  of  a  curious  look  that 
lay  in  the  eyes  of  the  column  conductor  of  the 
Dispatch  when  the  latter  meeting  him  in  a  cafe 
in  the  beginning  of  his  period  of  opulence 
repeatedly  addressed  him  as  "  Brown wyn." 

Belwyn  Brown — for  so  in  future  we  shall  call 
him — felt  that  he  had  reason  for  artistic  pride  in 
the  first  of  his  Gloom  Chasers  to  be  sent  out  as 
part  of  a  boiler-plate  page.  It  was  what,  unhesi 
tatingly,  he  called  a  poem;  and  it  ran  as  follows: 

SMILE! 

It's  easy  to  stride  where  the  road  is  wide 

And  the  pavement  is  firm  and  fine; 
It's  easy  to  skip  at  a  good  stiff  clip 

When  the  road  is  a  long  white  line; 
It's  jolly  good  fun  down  the  hills  to  run 
If  there  isn't  a  chance  to  fall; 

BUT— 

A  MAN'S  TRUE  BLUE  IF  HE  JUST  PLUGS  THROUGH 
WHERE  THERE  ISN'T  A  PATH  AT  ALL! 


64  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

It's  easy  to  grin  when  the  cash  rolls  in 

And  your  life  is  a  cloudless  day; 
It's  easy  to  prance  in  the  costliest  dance 

If  the  Fiddler's  received  his  pay; 
It's  easy  to  sing  till  the  rafters  ring 
If  Joy  is  the  Heart  of  the  Song; 

BUT— 
GIVE  ME  THE  FELLOW  THAT  DOESN'T  SHOW 

YELLOW 
WHEN  EVERYTHING'S  GONE  DEAD  WRONG!    . 


So,  remember,  Friends,  until  Cosmos  ends, 

Until  Chaos  shall  rule  supreme; 
Until  Day  and  Night  take  their  last  long  flight 

And  the  World  is  a  shattered  dream; 
Remember!     Your  frown  pulls  the  next  man 

down. 
Lend  a  Hand!     Make  his  life  worth  while! 

GIVE 

A  BEAMING  FACE  TO  THE  HUMAN  RACE! 
FACE  FATE  WITH— A  BRAVE 

SWEET 
SMILE! 


In  the  succeeding  Gloom  Chasers  there  was 
sometimes  verse,  sometimes  prose,  sometimes 
both.  Brown's  aim  was  to  give  the  daily  box 
an  appearance  of  variety,  yet  always  to  harp 
on  the  theme  of  uplift — of  sunshine. 

The  more  he  thought  upon  this  theme  the 


GLOOM    CHASERS  65 

more  facile  he  became  in  handling  it.  You 
could  hitch  the  sunshine  idea  to  almost  any 
thing,  he  found.  For  example,  this,  which  ap 
peared  among  the  first  week's  Gloom  Chasers: 

FREE  EXCURSION— A  Determination  to  be 
Cheerful  is  the  only  Ticket  needed  on  the  SUN 
SHINE  SPECIAL  which  leaves  the  Depot  of  Gloom 
at  any-old-time,  daily,  and  with  Old  Man  Smiles 
for  its  Conductor,  runs  over  the  golden  rails  of  the 
Optimism  &  Good  Cheer  Short  Line  to  the  Union 
Station  of  Success,  at  the  corner  of  Joy  St.  and 
Hope  Ave.,  Contentment ville. 

GET  ABOARD,  FRIEND! 

This  uplifting  item  was  followed  by  some  of 
the  pungent  paragraphs  Brown  was  finding  it 
daily  more  easy  to  dash  off — mere  sunbeams 
such  as: 

The  GOOD  SCOUT  can  always  Spot  a  Reason 
to  be  GLAD. 

Every  Day  of  Sunshine  is  a  HOO-RAY  for 
HAPPINESS! 

No  Business  is  Busted  when  there's  a  SMILE  left 
in  the  Bank. 


66  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

Then  a  short  "poem " : 

Comrades,  to-day  let  hate  and  quarrels  end: 
Forget  all  ancient  grudges  and  pretend 
That  bores  are  bright,  and  every  foe  a  friend. 

Chaos  of  gloom  I    Futility  of  strife  ! 

March  stoutly  onward:  smiles  your  drum  and  fife: 

Your  banner  joy.     Let  sunshine  rule  your  life ! 

Old  Man  Smiles  became  an  established 
character;  a  regular  contributor  of  Gloom 
Chasers.  He  gave  variety  by  expressing  him 
self  in  homely  dialect,  as,  for  instance: 

OLD  MAN  SMILES  SAYS:  "Ef  I  was  you, 
neighbour,  I'd  be  more  keerful  about  the  comp'ny 
I  kep'.  Ef  Old  Gus  Gloom  got  to  hangin'  around 
MY  house  I'd  jest  SWAT  'IM  WITH  A  GRIN." 

As  the  result  of  the  publication  of  Smile! — 
first  of  the  Gloom  Chasers  to  appear  in  print — 
Belwyn  Brown  received  seventeen  letters  from 
persons  who  had  read  it  in  one  newspaper  or 
another  and  wished  to  let  the  author  know  that 
his  poem — for  so  they  all  called  it — had  helped 
them;  and  thenceforward  as  the  other  Gloom 


GLOOM    CHASERS  67 

Chasers  appeared  day  after  day  more  letters 
kept  coming.  They  came,  of  course,  by  a  cir 
cuitous  route;  for  the  readers  always  addressed 
Brown  in  care  of  the  newspaper  in  which  they 
had  read  the  Gloom  Chasers  that  pleased  them, 
and  the  letters  were  forwarded  by  the  papers 
to  the  boiler-plate  man,  and  thence  to  Brown. 

The  letters  not  only  confirmed  him  in  his 
psychology,  establishing  the  sunshine  idea  as 
something  merchandisable  beyond  a  doubt, 
but  they  also  showed  him  that  various  groups 
of  readers  liked  various  grades  of  sunshine. 
Women,  for  instance,  he  perceived,  generally 
preferred  their  sunshine  double  distilled  and 
served  with  several  extra  lumps  of  sugar; 
whereas  the  men  who  wrote  to  him  usually 
appreciated  a  sunbeam  which,  as  one  corres 
pondent  put  it,  "burned  pleasantly  as  it  went 
down." 

Wherefore  instead  of  drawing  all  his  sunshine 
from  the  same  vat,  as  he  had  done  at  first,  he 
began  to  classify  it,  and  to  arrange  his  Gloom 
Chasers  in  such  a  way  as  to  meet  different  de 
mands. 

Each  day  he  aimed  to  furnish  at  least  one 


68  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

item  containing  punch,  pep,  or  a  kick  for  his 
male  readers;  but  to  counterbalance  this  he  also 
endeavoured  always  to  furnish  something  tender, 
sweet,  and  helpful  for  those  of  the  other  sex. 
Beyond  these  two  classifications  he  discovered 
two  others:  A  group  chiefly  composed  of  men 
but  including  some  women,  who  liked  what 
they  called  virile  stuff — the  term  usually  de 
noting  a  paragraph  or  poem  in  which  such  words 
as  "hell,"  "damn,"  or  "guts"  occurred;  and  an 
other  group,  containing  more  women  than  men, 
that  wrote  him  elaborate  letters  about  their 
intellects,  their  souls,  and  their  cravings  for  big 
thoughts.  It  was  in  an  effort  to  supply  the 
demand  created  by  this  latter  class  of  readers 
that  he  wrote  a  Gloom  Chaser  called  "Man,  the 
Master,"  which  brought  many  letters  from  per 
sons  who  claimed  to  understand  what  it  meant. 
It  ran  as  follows: 

I  AM  MAN! 

I  AM  the  CHILD  of  CHAOS; 

I  AM  the  COSMIC  CONSCIOUSNESS; 


GLOOM    CHASERS  69 

I  AM  VISION,  VOICE,  and  VOLITION; 

I  AM  Lord  over  HEAT  and  COLD; 

I  HAVE  Conquered  the  WATER  and  the  AIR; 

OVER  the  Beasts  of  FIELD  and  FOREST  I  HOLD 
SWAY 

I  AM  the  Ruler  of  GOD'S  GREAT  OUTDOORS; 
I  KNOW  the  MUSIC  OF  THE  SPHERES; 

ALONE  and  UNAFRAID  I  Vibrate  to  the  COSMIC 
THRENODY; 

I  BELONG  to  the  UNIVERSE 

AND  the  UNIVERSE  BELONGS  TO  ME; 

I  AM  NOTHING  and  I  AM  EVERYTHING 

HOW  HAVE  I  RISEN  TO  MY  HIGH  ESTATE? 

BY  the  POWER  of  MIND. 

MIND  is  the  MITIGATING  FORCE; 

THROUGH  MIND  the  SUMPTUARY  POWER  of 
MATTER  is  Dispelled; 


70  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

MIND  is  the  OCEAN,  EARTH,  and  AIR; 

MIND  is  ETERNITY,  and  ETERNITY  is  MIND; 

MIND  makes  MAN  MASTER  OF  HIS  SOUL. 

AND  SOUL  makes  MAN  MASTER  OF  HIS  FATE. 

MAN  is  the  BIGGEST  THING  MAN  KNOWS; 

ANDI- 

I  AM  MAN— THE  MASTER! 

Not  only  had  the  Gloom  Chasers  unques 
tionably  caught  hold,  but  it  was  demonstrated 
as  the  weeks  passed  that  they  possessed  what 
an  advertising  engineer  terms  cumulative  value. 
Headers  in  increasing  numbers  followed  Belwyn 
Brown's  department  and  let  the  various  news 
papers  know  they  liked  it;  the  newspapers  let 
the  boiler-plate  man  know,  and  the  latter  in  his 
enthusiasm  attempted  to  sign  Brown  up  for  a 
year's  supply  at  a  good  rate  of  payment.  And 
that  was  when  he  learned  to  his  profound  regret 
that  Brown  proposed  to  discontinue  the  depart 
ment  altogether  at  the  end  of  the  third  month. 
Nor  could  he  be  dissuaded. 


GLOOM    CHASERS  71 

So,  like  a  transient  star,  the  Gloom  Chaser  ap 
peared,  twinkled  for  a  time  in  the  firmament  of 
boiler-plate  journalism,  and  vanished.  Brown 
had  tried  his  experiment  and  he  was  satisfied. 
The  sunshine  idea  was  workable  commercially. 
And  just  as  the  idea  was  too  good  to  waste  on 
pills,  so  was  it  too  good  to  waste  on  boiler  plate. 
Henceforth  it  must  be  applied  in  a  larger  way. 
It  must  be  consecrated  to  a  nobler  cause.  It 
must  be  directed  to  some  definite  great  purpose. 
In  short,  it  must  be  made  to  earn  a  lot  of  money 
for  someone  worthy  of  a  lot  of  money.  And 
who,  after  all,  was  so  worthy  of  a  fortune  coined 
from  sunshine  as  the  discoverer  of  the  sun 
shine  theory  and  the  first  practitioner  of  the 
sunshine  principle? 


CHAPTER    SIX 

THE      UPLIFT      BUSINESS 

IT  MUST  not  be  supposed  that  Belwyn 
Brown  expected  wealth  at  once.  He 
estimated  that  two  or  three  years  would 
be  required  to  get  the  sunshine  idea  well  started. 
After  stopping  the  Gloom  Chasers  he  spent 
his  spare  time  for  several  months  in  concocting 
poems  and  paragraphs  which  he  did  not  publish 
but  laid  away  against  the  time  when  his  new 
venture  should  get  upon  its  feet.  Presently  he 
found  it  necessary  to  take  a  small  office  and 
employ  a  stenographer  to  run  it,  but  he  still 
regarded  sunshine  as  a  side  line,  giving  to  it 
time  only  outside  business  hours  and  saying 
nothing  of  it  to  his  associates  in  The  Publicity 
Directors  of  the  United  States,  Inc. — Adver 
tising  Engineers. 

The  stenographer  was  at  first  occupied  chiefly 
with  the  making  of  a  card  system  containing  the 

72 


THE    UPLIFT    BUSINESS        73 

names  and  addresses  of  persons  who  had  written 
Brown  about  the  Gloom  Chasers,  and  those  of 
other  persons  catalogued  in  selected  mailing 
lists  which  Brown  bought  from  agents  whose 
regular  business  it  was  to  deal  in  names.  One  of 
these  was,  for  instance,  a  list  of  more  than 
fourteen  thousand  women  who  had  written 
to  the  manufacturers  of  a  beauty  cream  asking 
for  a  sample.  For  these  names  he  paid  a  high 
rate  per  thousand,  both  because  the  names  were 
fresh — the  list  being  less  than  six  months  old — 
and  because  he  believed  that  women  who  were 
worrying  about  their  looks  made  particularly 
likely  customers  for  sunshine.  Similarly  he 
bought  a  list  of  men  and  women  who  had 
ordered  by  mail  a  set  of  books  by  an  author 
celebrated  for  uplift  and  optimism;  also  a  list  of 
persons  who  had  answered  a  physical-culture 
advertisement  headed:  "Do  You  Get  Up  in 
the  Morning  Feeling  Groggy?";  and  another 
of  individuals  who  had  written  to  Prof.  Felix 
Schnell,  Box  674-Z,  Munsonville,  Indiana,  an 
swering  affirmatively  his  published  query: 
"Would  You  Like  to  Be  a  Success  in  Life?" 
It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  narrative  to  trace 


74  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

in  detail  the  course  of  the  development  of  the 
new  business.  Suffice  it  that  within  two  years' 
time  Brown  found  himself  in  somewhat  the 
position  of  a  circus  rider  driving  a  pair  of  horses 
with  one  foot  resting  on  the  back  of  each,  and 
that  at  precisely  the  strategic  juncture  the  tal 
ented  performer  removed  his  foot  entirely 
from  the  back  of  the  older  horse  belonging  to 
Ledbetter  and  began  to  give  undivided  atten 
tion  to  the  one  he  owned  himself — namely: 
Sunbeams,  Inc. 

He  might  have  waited  a  little  longer  to  make 
the  final  shift  had  not  the  Federal  authorities 
shown  signs  of  sudden  interest  in  Ledbetter's 
transactions  in  connection  with  the  advertising 
of  stock  in  a  goldless  gold  mine.  Though 
Brown  himself  had  not  handled  this  account 
he  was  able  to  perceive  a  certain  family  resem 
blance  between  it  and  that  of  the  oilless  oil-well 
business,  over  the  advertising  of  which  he  had 
personally  presided. 

It  seemed  upon  the  whole  an  auspicious  time 
to  make  a  change,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that 
in  doing  so  it  might  be  well  to  write  Ledbetter 
an  indignant  letter  of  resignation,  putting  the 


THE    UPLIFT    BUSINESS         75 

blame  for  the  oil-well  advertising  squarely  upon 
him.  This  he  did — after  having  cashed  his 
final  check  for  salary  and  commissions.  And 
though  he  was  careful  to  keep  a  copy  of  the 
letter,  as  things  turned  out  he  never  needed  it — 
the  Federal  authorities  having  for  some  unex 
plained  reason  seemed  more  interested  in  goldless 
gold  than  in  oilless  oil. 

From  the  time  Brown  ceased  to  be  an  adver 
tising  engineer  and  became  a  wholesale  vendor 
of  sunshine  the  new  business  grew  with  great  ra 
pidity.  The  theory  on  which  he  worked,  stated 
in  its  simplest  form,  was  that  of  something 
more  than  one  hundred  million  persons  in  the 
United  States  all  were  potential  purchasers  of 
sunshine  of  one  kind  or  another,  at  one  price 
or  another;  it  being  his  particular  concern  to 
convert  as  many  as  possible  of  these  prospects 
into  actual  buyers.  The  foundation  of  his 
scheme  was  a  monthly  publication  called  The 
Sunbeam,  consisting  of  sixteen  pages  artistic 
ally  printed — which  is  to  say,  printed  on  a  very 
inexpensive  kind  of  thin  wrapping  paper.  Its 
contents  were  written  by  Belwyn  Brown,  save 
in  some  instances  when  he  complimented  other 


76  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

writers  by  reprinting  certain  utterances  of  theirs 
which  he  deemed  worthy  to  be  placed  beside 
his  own.  Thus,  though  Brown  himself  unques 
tionably  did  most  of  the  writing  for  The  Sun 
beam,  he  was  to  some  extent  assisted  by  Epic- 
tetus,  Marcus  Aurelius,  Elmer  Phineas  Lord, 
Shakspere,  Montaigne,  Robert  Louis  Stevenson, 
Benjamin  Franklin,  Phcebe  Fairweather  Vance, 
John  Bunyan,  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Abigail 
Wheeler  Sweet,  Cervantes,  and  Effie  Eggleston 
Fosdick,  the  Sweet  Singer  of  Ashtabula. 

The  price  of  The  Sunbeam  was  a  dollar  a  year, 
out  of  which  Brown  figured  to  make  a  profit  of 
at  least  fifty  cents.  When  three  years  had 
passed,  one  out  of  every  4,473  persons  in  the 
United  States  was  a  subscriber,  and  the  sub 
scription  list  was  jumping  rapidly  toward  the 
fifty-thousand  mark.  And  even  so,  the  little 
magazine  was  not  the  department  of  Sun 
beams,  Inc.,  in  which  the  largest  margin  of 
profit  was  made.  Besides  Regular  Subscribers 
at  one  dollar  there  were  Preferred  Subscribers 
at  $2.50  a  year,  these  receiving,  besides  the 
magazine,  twelve  mottoes  or  poems  by  such 
writers  as  Belwyn  Brown,  Shakspere,  Emerson, 


THE    UPLIFT    BUSINESS         77 

and  Stevenson — suitable  for  framing;  and  the 
Annual  Sunbeam  Calendar,  an  elaborate-looking 
thing  illustrated  with  coloured  copies  of  master 
pieces  of  art  and  rendered  beautiful  to  intellect 
as  well  as  eye  by  an  appropriate  sentiment 
for  each  day.  Special  Preferred  Subscribers, 
at  $5.00,  received  besides  these  articles  the 
Sunbeam  Daily  Date  Pad — including  hand 
some  nickel  stand  for  same — and  a  beautiful 
duotone  engraving  of  Belwyn  Brown,  with  his 
finger  resting  poetically  upon  his  temple,  and 
his  autograph — guaranteed  genuine — below. 
Or  for  $7.50  one  might  become  an  Extra  Pre 
ferred  Subscriber  and  secure,  along  with  the 
portrait  of  the  master,  a  large  cream-coloured 
mat  upon  which  Brown  would  inscribe  a  senti 
ment,  not  to  exceed  fifty  words  in  length, 
selected  from  his  works.  Or,  best  of  all,  for 
$10.00  one  could  become  an  Elite  Subscriber, 
receiving  all  the  treasures  mentioned  above, 
and  in  addition  a  choice  between  two  volumes 
of  Belwyn  Brown's  poems,  printed  on  heavy 
handmade,  deckle-edge  paper,  numbered,  signed 
by  the  author,  and  bound  in  "limp  ooze," 
suitable  for  carriage  in  the  shopping  bag  or 


78  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

pocket.  These  two  volumes  were  "Sunbeam 
Songs,"  generally  preferred  by  women,  and 
"Rimes  for  Roughnecks,"  attuned  more  to  the 
virile  taste  of  hairy,  hoarse-voiced  males. 

As  the  business  expanded,  subsidiary  depart 
ments  were  added:  A  Sunbeam  Sickroom  Ser 
vice,  a  children's  department,  and  a  holiday- 
card  division.  For  the  sick-room  Brown  issued 
his  daily  "Capsules  of  Cheer"  at  one  dollar  a 
week;  for  children  he  got  out  "Tender  Tinklings 
for  Tiny  Tots,"  while  in  the  holiday-card  section 
a  large  trade  with  stationery  dealers  promised 
to  develop,  aside  from  the  direct  mail-order 
service. 

By  the  time  the  European  War  broke  out 
Sunbeams,  Inc.,  was  occupying  considerable 
space  for  offices  and  the  storage  of  its  printed 
matter,  was  employing  a  good  deal  of  inexpen 
sive  office  help,  and  was  yielding  an  excellent 
income  to  its  proprietor  and  guiding  spirit. 
From  the  beginning  of  the  war  Brown  pro 
claimed  vigorously  with  voice  and  pen  his 
belief  in  the  doctrine  "Business  as  usual"; 
and  as  long  as  business  did  continue  as  usual  he 
had  no  particular  objection  to  the  war.  When 


THE    UPLIFT    BUSINESS         ?9 

the  United  States  went  in  he  became  a  little  bit 
uneasy  and  shouted  "Business  as  usual"  louder 
than  before;  and  for  a  time  it  looked  as  though 
"Business  as  usual"  might  become  the  national 
policy. 

But  it  did  not. 

Came  the  draft,  the  shortage  in  labour  and 
materials,  greatly  increased  costs  and  heavy 
taxes;  and  though  one  might  have  supposed 
that  the  harrowing  effect  of  war  on  people's 
minds  would  make  the  Sunbeam  market  better 
than  ever,  that  did  not  prove  to  be  the  case. 

Brown  now  began  to  be  deeply  interested  in 
the  war.  He  believed  in  "force,  force  without 
stint.'*  America  could  not  send  too  many 
soldiers  to  suit  him.  The  thing  to  do  was  to 
clean  it  up — get  it  over  with.  If  the  war  didn't 
end  pretty  soon  everybody  would  be  broke ! 

It  became  difficult  to  get  sufficient  paper 
for  his  various  requirements.  Brown  attempted 
to  convince  a  governmental  body  having  juris 
diction  over  paper  distribution  that  the  business 
of  disseminating  sunbeams  was  now  more  than 
ever  an  essential  industry,  but  he  could  not  get 
the  narrow-minded  creatures  to  see  it. 


80  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

And  yet  it  must  be  said  for  Belwyn  Brown 
that  throughout  the  period  of  confusion  and 
depression  he  took  his  own  medicine.  Even 
when  the  financial  return  from  Sunbeams, 
Inc.,  was  cut  in  half  he  gazed  confidently  into 
the  future,  under  a  deep  conviction  that  every 
thing  would  be  all  right  again  once  the  war  was 
over.  So  though  it  now  became  necessary  to 
reduce  the  sunbeams  service  all  along  the  line 
he  devoted  much  time  to  the  preparation  of  new 
sunbeam  campaigns  to  be  launched  when  the 
normal  trend  of  things  should  have  been 
resumed. 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

SUNSHINE     WINS     THE     WAR 

IT  WAS  in  the  course  of  his  planning  for 
post-bellum  developments  that  Belwyn 
Brown  conceived  the  idea  of  going  to 
Europe.  At  home  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
struggle  along  under  the  handicaps  of  war. 
He  had  enough  sunbeams  laid  by  to  last  a  year. 
The  only  work  that  regularly  required  atten 
tion  was  the  setting  up,  printing,  and  mailing 
of  The  Sunbeam  every  month,  and  the  routine 
of  filling  such  orders  in  other  lines  as  could  be 
filled.  His  office  manager,  formerly  a  young 
reporter  on  the  Dispatch,  could  handle  all  this. 

Europe,  upon  the  other  hand,  began  to 
beckon  Belwyn  Brown.  He  and  Europe  had 
never  met  each  other.  It  seemed  time  that  this 
was  remedied.  It  was  always  good  for  Sun 
beams,  Inc.,  to  have  its  proprietor  travel. 
He  made  new  contacts,  gathered  new  ideas  for 

81 


82  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

sunbeams,  brought  in  new  subscriptions.  And 
now,  in  Europe,  what  a  chance!  More  than 
two  million  huskies  in  need  of  uplift  and  good 
cheer!  More  than  two  million  lads,  most  of 
whom  would  be  back  in  the  United  States  after 
a  while,  and  every  one  of  whom  would  then  be 
come  a  possible  subscriber  for  one  sort  of  sun 
beam  service  or  another.  He  could  go  over, 
shoot  sunbeams  into  them,  earn  their  gratitude 
and  friendship,  and  thus  line  them  up  for  the 
future.  For  he  had  read  enough  about  the  war 
to  know  that  over  there  you  could  get  at  the 
men  in  bunches — at  wholesale,  as  it  were. 

Think  of  millions  of  American  boys  living  in  a 
foreign  land  amid  cooties,  rats,  and  mud !  Mud 
meant  rain,  rain  meant  gloom.  What,  then, 
was  most  vitally  needed  by  our  boys  in  France? 
Sunshine !  Sunshine  would  win  the  war ! 

Within  two  or  three  days  of  the  time  when 
the  thought  first  struck  him  he  had  manu 
factured  samples  of  a  new  line  of  wares,  which 
he  called  "Sunbeams  For  Sammies."  These  he 
took  to  Washington,  where  he  presently  suc 
ceeded  in  submitting  them  to  the  secretary  to 
an  assistant  secretary.  This  dignitary  was  so 


SUNSHINE    WINS    THE    WAR    83 

impressed  with  Brown's  productions  that  he 
immediately  summoned  his  own  third  assistant 
secretary,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  Bureau  of 
Uplift.  Some  of  Brown's  samples  were  then 
read  aloud: 

"SUNBEAM  SAMMY  SAYS:  Take  it  from 
me,  Pard:  There  ain't  no  Ordnance  Officer  as  kin 
Measure  the  Muzzle  Velocity  of  a  Grin ! ' 

"SMILE  and  make  the  Hun  of  Hardship  cry, 
'KAMERAD!' 

"When  everything  looks  dark  without, 

Amid  the  battle's  din, 
The  darkest  dugout's  lighted 
By  the  glamour  of  a  Grin. 

"Bomb  the  crossing  of  Peevish  Ave.  and  Grouch 
St.  with  a  Blazing  Burst  of  SUNSHINE. 

"  Lay  down  a  Barrage  of  Smiles  and  see  the  Boche 
of  Bitterness  beat  it  back  over  the  No  Man's  Land 
of  Gloom. 

"When  Despair  is  pressing  fiercest, 

Comes  Joy's  Army  down  the  miles, 
With  a  thousand  sunbeams  glinting 
From  its  bayonets  of  Smiles!" 


84  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

In  the  face  of  such  art  as  this,  what  could  the 
secretary  to  an  assistant  secretary  say?  After 
speaking  to  Brown  solemnly  about  morale  and 
functioning  and  things  like  that,  he  authorized 
him  to  sail  forthwith  to  France,  there  to  spill 
sunbeams  upon  the  American  Expeditionary 
Force. 

"Get  in  a  few  raps  at  bad  language  and  the 
tobacco  habit  if  you  can,"  were  his  last  words  to 
Brown  as  he  departed. 

Brown  was  in  France  six  months.  He  never 
learned  just  what  the  soldiers  thought  of  him, 
because  even  in  the  S.  O.  S.  discipline  was 
strict.  The  men  really  behaved  very  well 
when  Brown  spilled  sunbeams  on  them — 
especially  after  someone  warned  him  to  stop 
calling  them  Sammies.  He  talked  to  them  by 
the  thousands.  And  then  one  day  he  heard 
that  the  armistice  had  been  signed.  The  war 
was  over.  He  had  told  them  all  along  what 
would  end  it.  Over  and  over  again  he  had 
declared:  "Sunshine  Will  Win  the  War."  And 
now  this  prophecy  had  come  true.  Sunshine 
had  won! 


SUNSHINE    WINS    THE    WAR    80 

The  ship  on  which  he  came  home  was  full 
of  generals  and  economists  and  colonels  and 
correspondents  and  majors  and  assistant  sec 
retaries  of  government  departments  and  cap 
tains  and  socialists  and  admirals  and  Y  workers 
and  lieutenant-commanders  and  nurses  and 
lieutenants  and  Red  Cross  people  and  dough 
boys.  Brown  did  not  spend  any  time  with  the 
doughboys  or  other  minor  persons  but  con 
sorted  as  much  as  possible  with  the  more  im 
portant  figures. 

The  more  he  conversed  with  them  the  more 
he  was  amazed.  For  whereas  in  the  past  the 
biggest  man  with  whom  he  had  a  chance  to 
compare  himself  were  merely  successful  New 
York  merchants  and  the  like,  he  now  perceived 
that  even  when  he  stacked  up  against  men  who 
were  real  world  figures  he  still  showed  to  good 
advantage.  It  was  just  a  matter  of  personality. 
Lots  of  these  men  didn't  have  much  personality. 
There  was  one  of  them,  for  instance,  to  whom  he 
talked  for  two  hours  without  finding  out  who 
he  was  or  what  he  had  been  doing  in  Europe. 
He  figured  him  as  just  some  plain  little  business 
man  of  no  particular  importance.  Yet  who 


86  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

should  this  very  fellow  turn  out  to  be  but  one  of 
Hoover's  chief  assistants — a  big  man — a  man 
who  knew  all  the  kings  and  generals  and  states 
men!  Yet — would  you  believe  it? — he  never 
said  a  word  about  any  of  it;  and,  worse  still, 
instead  of  mixing  with  other  important  men  he 
would  go  and  spend  hours  talking  with  the 
doughboys.  This  practice  struck  Brown  as  so 
peculiar  that  he  was  impelled  to  speak  of  it. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me,"  he  asked  the 
man  one  day,  "why  you  associate  with  th* 
doughboys  so  much?" 

"Because  they  let  me,"  the  other  answered. 

"But  you  can  associate  with  the  most  im 
portant  men  on  board  if  you  want  to." 

The  man  stared. 

"If  you  can  show  me  anybody  more  import 
ant  than  the  doughboy  not  only  on  this  ship 
but  in  this  world,"  he  said,  "I'd  like  very  much 
to  talk  with  him.  Only  I  don't  know  of  any 
such  person." 

Brown  had  thought  well  of  Hoover  until 
then,  but  from  that  time  he  doubted  him.  He 
might  know  about  food  perhaps,  but  if  he  would 
have  for  one  of  his  chief  assistants  a  man  who 


SUNSHINE    WINS    THE    WAR    87 

talked  such  nonsense  as  that,  why,  then,  there 
must  be  something  the  matter  with  Hoover  him 
self,  too.  One  thing  was  certain:  He,  Belwyn 
Brown,  could  teach  almost  any  one  of  these 
eminent  men  a  good  deal  about  the  art  of  get 
ting  themselves  across. 

In  New  York  he  saw  that  even  the  dough 
boys  were  getting  themselves  across  more  than 
the  big  men  were.  There  were  no  committees 
of  welcome  except  for  the  doughboys.  There 
were  parades  by  and  for  them.  There  was  a 
stucco  arch  for  them  to  march  through.  Every 
body  else  who  had  been  to  France  was  being 
lost  sight  of.  It  was  all  wrong.  The  dough 
boy  was  well  enough  in  his  way,  of  course,  but 
there  were  others  who  were  not  getting  the 
recognition  they  deserved.  Himself,  for  in 
stance.  What  sacrifices  he  had  made  for  his 
country!  Had  he  not  dropped  his  affairs, 
risked  the  perils  of  the  deep,  and  gone  to  France 
to  win  the  war  with  sunshine?  And  was  he 
to  be  forgotten  now  that  he  was  back?  Not  if 
he  could  help  it.  And  having  been  an  advertis 
ing  engineer  he  thought  he  could. 


CHAPTE.R     EIGHT 

THE     PUNDITS     CLUB 

BELWYN  BROWN  was  not  the  only 
man  of  his  era  on  the  Dispatch  to  have 
achieved  success  in  a  field  outside  of 
journalism.  Bolton,  who  left  the  paper  shortly 
after  Brown,  to  become  editor  of  Tittle-Tattte, 
had  later  branched  out  for  himself  in  a  line  of 
business  no  less  unusual  than  Brown's.  Unlike 
Brown,  however,  Bolton  did  not  choose  to  figure 
as  master  of  his  own  affairs,  but  preferred  to  be 
thought  of  as  a  salaried  manager  acting  on  be 
half  of  an  organization  of  eminent  men  and 
women.  This  organization  was  called  The 
Pundits  Club,  and  on  its  handsomely  embossed 
letterheads  Bolton 's  name  figured  modestly 
below  a  lot  of  other  names.  His  title  was  cor 
responding  secretary,  and  he  made  it  a  point 
generally  to  assume  the  modest  mien  of  an 
employee. 


THE    PUNDITS    CLUB  89 

"I  shall  have  to  consult  our  board  of  gover 
nors,"  he  would  say;  or:  "I  shall  have  to  ask 
our  president  about  that  before  giving  you  an 
answer." 

Yet  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  did  not  have  to  con 
sult  anybody.  He  himself  was  The  Pundits 
Club.  He  owned  and  operated  it.  His  bank 
account  was  its  bank  account — or,  rather,  its 
was  his.  His  officers  were  dummies — men 
who  liked  to  speak  in  public,  and  who  let  their 
names  be  used  on  the  understanding  that  they 
should  have  no  work  and  no  responsibility  and 
should  be  called  upon  to  speak  at  a  banquet 
once  a  year — for  the  liquor  habit  and  the 
tobacco  habit  are  minor  vices  compared  with  the 
public-speaking  habit. 

That  suited  Bolton.  He  was  the  Membership 
Committee,  the  Dinner  Committee,  the  Com 
mittee  on  Speakers.  The  work  and  the  respon 
sibility  were  his.  Also  his  were  the  profits. 
And  given  some  knowledge  of  the  inner  ma 
chinery  of  The  Pundits  Club  the  profits  were 
easy  to  compute.  Eight  or  ten  banquets  were 
given  each  year,  beginning  in  the  fall  and  end 
ing  in  the  early  spring.  A  ticket  to  one  of  the 


90  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

banquets  cost  six  dollars.  The  actual  cost  of 
the  banquet  to  Bolton  was  approximately  half 
that  amount.  The  difference  made  his  income. 
Altogether,  you  see,  it  was  a  nice  clean  busi 
ness,  easy  to  handle,  and — Bolton  had  his  law 
yer's  word  for  it — entirely  within  the  law. 

Don't  imagine  that  anybody  could  buy  a 
ticket  to  a  Pundits  banquet.  No,  indeed !  To 
buy  a  ticket  you  had  to  be  a  member.  And  to 
become  a  member  you  had  to  be  invited.  Oh, 
yes;  The  Pundits  was  exclusive — very.  But 
there  was  nothing  commercial  about  it — no 
initiation  fee  or  dues;  the  object  as  stated  in  the 
club's  prospectus  was  simply  to  get  together  a 
body  of  congenial  people  who  liked  to  dine  out 
and  hear  interesting  speakers. 

A  great  many  people  in  New  York  like  to  dine 
out  and  hear  interesting  speakers.  Most  of 
them  live  in  family  hotels.  Suppose  yourself 
one  of  these.  You  receive  some  fine  morning 
an  impressive  document.  At  the  head  of  it  arc 
the  names  of  the  officers  of  The  Pundits  Club. 
Many  of  these  names  are  vaguely  familiar.  Be 
low  is  an  engraved  invitation.  Your  name  is 
written  in.  The  corresponding  secretary  of 


THE    PUNDITS    CLUB  91 

The  "Pundits  Club  begs  to  inform  you  that  By 
order  of  the  Board  of  Governors  you  are  invited 
to  become  a  member.  You  are  flattered. 
How  did  they  come  to  invite  you?  Evidently 
some  member  of  the  Board  of  Governors  has 
found  out  that  you  are  a  person  who  likes  to 
keep  up  with  current  affairs.  You've  often 
read  in  the  newspapers  about  the  banquets 
of  The  Pundits.  They  have  important  speak 
ers — celebrities.  You  like  to  see  and  hear  ce 
lebrities.  Moreover,  you  get  awfully  tired  of 
meals  from  your  hotel  kitchen.  You  write  to 
the  corresponding  secretary  and  accept  the 
invitation. 

Thenceforth  you  are  a  Pundit  and  receive 
a  notice  of  each  banquet.  Nor  does  it  ever 
occur  to  you  that  in  joining  this  distinguished 
body  you  are  performing  an  act  about  equiva 
lent  to  buying  a  theatre  seat  or  subscribing  for 
a  magazine.  No.  This  seems  altogether  dif 
ferent.  This  is  a  club.  You  are  a  member. 
You  can  go  to  the  banquets,  and  when  you 
read  about  them  in  your  newspaper  next  morn 
ing  you  can  say  to  yourself  proudly,  "I  was 
there!"  When  you  read  what  some  speaker 


92  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

said  you  can  say  to  yourself:  "I  heard  him 
say  that — or  at  least  I  should  have  heard  him 
had  I  only  sat  a  little  nearer  to  the  speakers' 
table." 

There  is  always  the  chance,  too,  that  some 
thing  still  more  wonderful  may  happen.  Now 
and  then  there  appears  in  some  newspaper  a 
list  of  some  of  the  persons  who  were  present. 
Some  day  your  name  may  appear  on  such  a 
list.  Think  of  that!  You  can  buy  a  lot  of 
copies  of  the  paper,  mark  them,  and  send  them 
to  friends  in  remote  places  to  show  them  that 
you're  somebody  in  New  York  now.  The 
hotel  clerk  and  the  chambermaid  will  be  in 
terested,  too. 

Of  the  men  on  the  Dispatch  in  Belwyn 
Brown's  time  Bolton  was  the  only  one  of  whom 
the  proprietor  of  Sunbeams,  Inc.,  had  kept 
track.  Four  or  five  times  a  year  the  two  would 
meet,  lunch  or  dine  together  and  discuss  their 
respective  affairs.  Thus  Brown  not  only  watch 
ed  the  growth  of  The  Pundits  Club,  but  acted 
occasionally  as  an  adviser  to  his  friend.  To 
advise  he  had  to  understand  the  inner  workings 
of  the  club,  and  he  was  one  of  the  very  few  per- 


THE    PUNDITS    CLUB  03 

sons  who  did.  As  he  watched  Bolton 's  prog 
ress  his  respect  for  Bolton  grew.  In  the  early 
days  the  corresponding  secretary  had  been 
glad  enough  to  get  a  prominent  actor  or  actress 
as  a  guest  of  honour,  filling  in  his  list  of  speak 
ers  with  judges  of  the  state  courts,  and  lawyers 
and  politicians  whose  reputations  were  distinctly 
local ;  but  now  that  the  club  was  in  full  swing  no 
one  was  too  big  to  be  a  guest  of  honour  at  its 
banquets,  nor  was  there  in  the  city  any  ban 
quet  hall  too  big  for  the  crowds  that  Bolton  could 
cause  to  gather — at  six  dollars  a  plate. 

He  had  by  this  time  entertained  visiting 
princes  and  other  persons  of  the  higher  Euro 
pean  aristocracy,  ambassadors,  cabinet  mem 
bers  and  leading  senators  from  Washington, 
opera  singers  and  musicians  of  the  first  rank, 
generals,  admirals,  explorers,  great  inventors, 
authors  of  the  highest  distinction  and  the  presi 
dents  of  gigantic  corporations.  It  had  come 
to  be  understood  that  there  were  always  many 
interesting  people  at  these  banquets;  and  even 
interesting  people  themselves  will  go  to  ban 
quets  sometimes  to  meet  other  interesting 
people.  It  was  all  plain  sailing  for  Bolton  now. 


94  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

Soon  after  his  return  from  Europe  Belwyn 
Brown  invited  Bolton  to  lunch.  Neither  one 
of  them  could  have  told,  now,  whether  Rafaelli's 
so  much  as  existed  any  more,  and  even  Sulli 
van's  had  sunk  in  their  opinion  to  the  rank  of  an 
obscure  second-rate  restaurant.  They  lunched 
at  a  great  hotel  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  as  they 
entered  the  dining  room  the  head  waiter  bowed 
and  called  them  by  their  names. 

Until  now  Brown  had  not  thought  in  a  long 
time  of  the  farewell  banquet  given  him  years 
before  upon  the  occasion  of  his  leaving  the  staff 
of  the  Dispatch.  He  could  not  have  told  you 
what  had  become  of  the  absurdly  small  loving 
cup  of  thin  silver  presented  to  him  then.  Long 
ago  he  had  put  that  cup  away  upon  a  dark, 
dusty  closet  shelf,  corresponding  with  the  shelf 
of  memory  upon  which  the  recollection  of  the 
dinner  itself  had  been  placed. 

Yet  now,  in  a  curious  way,  his  mind  harked 
back  to  that  dinner  and  that  cup.  For  they 
had  done  him  good.  Insignificant  as  they  were 
they  had  helped  him.  They  had  given  him  his 
first  publicity  and  had  assisted  him  materially 
in  his  new  job.  It  was  an  excellent  thing  for  a 


THE    PUNDITS    CLUB  95 

man  to  have  a  banquet  given  in  his  honour  and 
to  receive  a  loving  cup.  And  the  larger  the  ban 
quet  and  the  cup,  the  better.  Strange  that 
Bolton  should  have  been  the  moving  genius  in 
that  affair  of  long  ago!  For  it  was  Brown's 
intention  now  to  let  Bolton  do  the  same  thing 
for  him  again;  the  same  thing — yet,  paradoxi 
cally,  not  the  same  thing  at  all. 

After  telling  Bolton  something  of  his  work  in 
France,  and  assuring  him  that  sunbeams  had 
been  the  decisive  factor  in  the  war,  he  spoke 
reminiscently  of  the  old  days. 

"Last  night,"  he  said,  "I  got  to  thinking 
about  that  banquet  you  gave  for  me  when  I  left 
the  Dispatch.  Some  fellows  forget  things  like 
that,  but  I  don't.  I  suppose  it's  sentimentality 
in  me,  but  I've  always  felt  that  memory  as  a 
tie  between  us." 

"You've  forgotten,"  Bolton  put  in.  "I 
didn't  get  up  that  banquet.  It  was  Jimmy 
Otis." 

Brown  brushed  Jimmy  Otis  aside  with  a  wave 
of  the  hand.  "He  may  have  thought  of  it," 
he  said,  "but  it  took  you  to  carry  it  out.  That 
was  the  first  time  any  of  us  realized  your 


96  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

genius  for  handling  such  things.  I  guess  perhaps 
it  was  the  first  time  you  realized  it  yourself." 

"I  was  a  bit  surprised  at  myself,"  Bolton 
said.  "I  wouldn't  call  it  genius,  though." 

"Cut  out  the  false  modesty,  old  man,"  said 
Brown,  patting  his  friend  on  the  shoulder. 
"It  is  genius.  Nobody  else  in  New  York  can 
pull  off  a  big  dinner  the  way  you  can.  Well, 
then,  admit  it.  Admit  it  the  same  as  I  admit 
it  when  I've  really  accomplished  something 
big." 

Bolton  looked  at  him  and  waited. 

"That  brings  me  to  what  I  want  to  talk  to 
you  about,"  Brown  went  on.  "The  fact  is, 
Bolton,  a  lot  of  the  men  who  have  done  big 
things  in  this  war  are  going  to  get  lost  in  the 
shuffle,  when  it  comes  to  passing  around  the 
credit,  unless  they  get  busy  and  see  that  they 
get  what's  coming  to  them.  Take  my  own 
case:  I  deserve  recognition,  but  who's  going  to 
know  it  if  I  sit  tight  and  say  nothing?  That 
would  be  the  easy  thing  to  do,  but  is  it  the  right 
thing  to  do?  No.  It  isn't  fair  to  the  public  or 
to  me.  The  people  of  this  country  have  a  right 
to  know  what  a  force  the  sunshine  idea  was. 


THE    PUNDITS    CLUB  97 

Of  course  there  are  lots  of  ways  that  it  can  be 
got  over  to  them  but,  as  I  said  before,  I'm 
sentimental.  You  gave  me  that  first  banquet 
and  loving  cup,  years  ago,  when  I  was  starting. 
Our  friendship  has  gone  on  ever  since.  I  al 
ways  knew  you'd  make  good,  and  you  have 
made  good.  I've  been  able  to  advise  with  you 
— to  help  you  a  little,  I  trust.  And  you've 
watched  my  progress.  Well,  you  gave  me  that 
little  testimonial  banquet,  so  now,  when  I've 
really  got  something  to  deliver,  I  want  you  to  be 
the  one  to  give  me  a  big  banquet.  Naturally 
there  are  many  organizations  that  would  be 
glad  to  do  it,  just  to  hear  what  I've  got  to  say 
about  sunshine  and  the  war,  but  I  want  you  to 
do  it,  for  auld  lang  syne.  I  want  The  Pundits 
to  do  it.  I  want 

"It's  getting  pretty  late  in  the  season," 
Bolton  said.  "We  were  going  to  have  only  one 
more  dinner,  and  for  that  we  were  going  to  have 
the  Duke  of  Felixstowe  and  the  Secretary 
of- 

" That's  all  right,"  Brown  said.  "Let  them 
speak  at  my  dinner.  So  much  the  better.  I 
want  other  big  men  there  anyhow.  Of  course 


98  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

I  realize  that  their  names  would  draw  more 
than  mine,  even  if  I  had  done  a  lot  more  than 
they  had.  That's  just  the  point.  I've  kept  in 
the  background  too  much,  old  man.  I  don't 
care  who  else  speaks  as  long  as  I'm  the  guest 
of  honour.  There'll  be  glory  enough  for  all." 

Bolton  showed  no  enthusiasm. 

"You  must  remember,  Brown,"  he  said, 
"that  with  The  Pundits  everything  is  strictly 
business.  You  know  how  it  has  been  built  up. 
It  wouldn't  be  anything  if  we  gave  dinners  to 
people  who — to  people  who,  whatever  their 
merits,  weren't  known  all  over  the  world." 

"But  you  don't  realize  what  I  did  in  France." 

"I  haven't  any  doubt  that  you  did  wonders," 
Bolton  said.  "That's  not  the  point,  old  man. 
The  question  is:  Do  members  of  The  Pundits 
realize  it?  Will  they  come?  " 

"We'll  make  them  realize  it!"  Brown  de 
clared.  "And  as  far  as  their  coming  is  con 
cerned — why,  of  course  they'll  do  that  if  you 
line  up  the  usual  lot  of  celebrities.  That's  just 
the  point." 

"These  banquets  aren't  nearly  so  profitable 
as  they  used  to  be,"  Bolton  said,  ruefully. 


THE     PUNDITS    CLUB  99 

"  Food  prices  have  jumped  so  that  I  can't  make 
favourable  arrangements  with  the  hotels  any 
more.  Of  course  I  have  to  give  The  Pundits  a 
fairly  decent  meal.  But  where  I  used  to  be 
able  to  knock  out  from  two-eighty  to  three- 
twenty  a  plate  for  myself,  I'm  lucky  now  if  I 
clear  a  dollar  and  a  half,  after  the  printing, 
souvenirs,  and  dinners  for  invited  guests  are 
settled  for." 

"As  far  as  that  goes,"  said  Brown,  quickly, 
"I'll  be  glad  to  pay  for  all  the  extras  myself." 

"That  puts  a  different  face  on  it,"  replied 
Bolton,  warming  perceptibly.  "After  all,  this 
club  is  my  living,  you  know." 

"Of  course.  What  do  you  think  the  extras 
will  come  to?" 

"Five  hundred  ought  to  cover  everything." 

"Including  a  loving  cup?" 

"No.  Just  the  fixed  charges.  Do  you  want 
a  cup,  too?" 

"Yes,"  said  Brown.  "I'll  arrange  about  that 
myself,  though.  But  I  do  think  a  big  handsome 
cup  inscribed  from  The  Pundits  Club  to  me 
would  be  rather  effective,  don't  you?  " 

Bolton  thought  it  would. 


100  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"Then,"  said  Brown,  as  they  left  the  table, 
"we  may  regard  the  whole  thing  as  settled. 
Where  do  you  think  you'll  hold  it?  " 

Bolton  mentioned  the  grand  ballroom  of  an 
immense  hotel. 

"Now  that  we've  fixed  the  business  end  of 
it,"  he  said,  genially,  "I  want  you  to  know  that 
I'll  try  to  make  this  the  greatest  banquet  The 
Pundits  ever  gave.  It  will  be  the  biggest  affair 
of  the  season  if  I  can  make  it  so." 

"Thanks!"  exclaimed  Brown  with  fervour 
as  he  wrung  the  other's  hand.  "Thanks  more 
than  I  can  say,  old  man !  No  one  knows  better 
than  I  what  you  can  accomplish  when  you 
want  to." 


CHAPTER  NINE 

A     BIG     BANQUET 

THE  very  invitations  to  the  banquet 
given  by  The  Pundits  Club  in  honour 
of  Belwyn  Brown  foreshadowed  a  su 
preme  event.  Brown  wished  them  to  do  that, 
and  as  he  paid  for  them  himself  there  was  no 
stinting.  They  were  enormous  invitations, 
in  enormous  envelopes,  on  enormously  thick 
paper  from  which  the  engraving  protruded  in 
relief  so  high  as  immediately  to  tempt  explor 
ing  thumbs.  The  large  script  lettering  was  uni 
form  in  size  save  for  two  lines  displayed  in 
even  taller  characters — these  setting  forth  re 
spectively  the  name  of  the  club  and  that  of  the 
guest  of  honour. 

On  the  second  sheet  were  forty  famous 
names  making  up  an  invitation  committee; 
and  a  separate  card  inclosed  with  each  invita 
tion  gave  a  list  of  those  who  would  speak.  As 

101 


102  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

guest  of  honour  Belwyn  Brown's  name  nat 
urally  headed  this  list.  Next  came  His  Grace 
the  Duke  of  Felixstowe,  K.  G.,  next  a  member 
of  the  cabinet,  then  one  of  the  world's  most 
celebrated  soldiers,  then  a  great  economist, 
and  last  a  famous  explorer. 

Never  had  The  Pundits  Club  presented  such 
a  programme.  Ten  days  before  the  banquet 
was  to  take  place  all  the  tickets  were  disposed 
of,  and  a  hundred  or  two  Pundits  who  applied 
too  late  had  their  checks  returned  to  them. 

A  good  many  of  The  Pundits,  receiving  these 
invitations,  wondered  who  Belwyn  Brown  was. 
Someone  of  great  consequence,  of  course. 
That  went  without  saying.  Otherwise  The 
Pundits  would  not  be  giving  him  a  banquet. 
Besides,  look  at  the  list  of  speakers  that  he 
headed,  and  at  the  distinguished  names  on  the 
invitation  committee.  The  accumulated  evi 
dence  of  Belwyn  Brown's  importance  caused 
many  a  Pundit  to  feel  ashamed  of  knowing  noth 
ing  of  him,  and  to  fear  to  reveal  the  ignorance 
by  making  inquiries. 

Came  at  last  the  night  of  the  great  banquet. 
Came  the  rank  and  file  of  male  and  female 


A    BIG    BANQUET  103 

Pundits,  filling  the  places  at  the  countless  round 
tables  crowding  the  ballroom  floor;  came  the 
more  exalted  Pundits — those  who  allowed  their 
names  to  be  used  upon  the  club's  letterhead — 
to  occupy  the  places  at  the  long  table  on  the 
dais  at  one  end  of  the  vast  rococo  chamber; 
came  the  wives  and  daughters  of  these,  in  jewels 
and  silks,  to  fill  the  double  tier  of  gilded  boxes 
surrounding  three  sides  of  the  room;  came  the 
reporters,  who  were  the  only  people  not  in 
evening  dress,  and  the  only  people,  save  the 
speakers,  to  get  in  free;  came  the  corresponding 
secretary  of  The  Pundits  Club,  to  act,  this  time, 
as  toastmaster;  came  the  five  famous  speakers 
with  their  speeches  rumbling  in  their  heads; 
came  the  guest  of  honour. 

He  came  a  little  early  in  a  limousine.  That, 
he  felt,  was  the  way  a  man  ought  to  arrive  at  a 
banquet  given  in  his  honour — alone  in  a  lim 
ousine.  The  gold-braided  carriage  starter 
opened  the  door  of  the  car  and  Brown  alighted. 
He  paused  and  drew  from  his  well-filled  wallet  a 
dollar  bill  which  he  gave  to  the  chauffeur  as  a 
tip.  The  limousine  itself  was  charged  to  his 
account.  He  ascended  in  a  crowded  elevator 


104  SUNBEAMS,     INC. 

to  the  banquet  floor.  The  other  people  in  the 
elevator  got  out  at  that  floor,  too.  Though 
none  of  them  knew  him  they  were  going  to  his 
banquet.  He  could  imagine  how  they  would 
have  whispered  had  they  known  who  he  was. 
"That's  Belwyn  Brown!"  they  would  have  said 
behind  their  hands. 

"It's  all  for  me!"  he  thought  as  he  passed 
through  the  mob  of  Pundits  in  the  corridors, 
to  leave  his  silk  hat  and  his  fur-lined  overcoat 
in  the  special  room  provided  for  those  at  the 
speakers'  table.  "It's  all  for  me!"  he  thought 
as  he  entered  the  vast  ballroom  and  saw  the 
great  flags  draped  behind  the  long,  elevated 
table  at  the  exact  centre  of  which  he  was  to  sit. 
"It's  all  for  me!"  he  thought  as  he  stepped  up 
to  his  place  and  shook  the  hand  of  Bolton. 
"It's  all  for  me!"  he  kept  saying  to  himself  as 
Bolton  escorted  him  down  the  line  of  celebrities, 
introducing  them  to  him  one  after  another. 
"It's  all  for  me!"  he  reflected,  warmly,  as  he 
dropped  into  the  chair  at  Bolton's  right  and 
with  an  exaltation  of  the  spirit  such  as  he  had 
never  before  felt,  surveyed  the  huge,  crowded, 
glittering  room. 


A    BIG    BANQUET  105 

People  at  the  tables  stared  up  at  the  speakers, 
indicating  to  one  another  the  distinguished 
guests.  Brown  was  conscious  of  their  glances 
when  they  rested  upon  him.  They  were  talking 
about  him. 

"That  must  be  Belwyn  Brown,"  they  were 
saying — "Belwyn  Brown  himself!" 

He  knew  how  they  felt.  At  many  another 
banquet  he  had  sat  where  they  were  sitting — 
at  the  ordinary  tables.  He  had  looked  up, 
as  they  were  looking,  to  admire  and  envy  the 
important  figures.  It  had  often  struck  him 
that  men  at  speakers'  tables  looked  calmer, 
more  genial,  and  more  worldly  than  men  ever 
looked  in  other  places,  and  that  as  they  leaned 
back  and  conversed  with  one  another  their 
shirt  bosoms  seemed  whiter  and  more  spacious 
than  those  of  other  men.  Did  he  look  now  as 
guests  of  honour  looked  at  other  dinners?  Did 
his  shirt  bosom  have  that  special  splendour? 
He  hoped  so.  And  he  believed  so.  For  what 
a  haberdasher,  a  tailor,  and  a  Belwyn  Brown 
could  do  in  combination — these  things  had  as 
suredly  been  done. 

Full  dress !     How  he  loved  to  see  people  in  full 


106  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

dress!  And  all  for  him!  This  festival  indeed 
presented  a  picture  of  brilliant  dignity  such  as 
may  be  attained  only  where  lustrous  shirt 
bosoms  and  silken  facings  garnish  the  banquet 
board.  To  be  sure  Brown  did  see  a  few  men 
wearing  dinner  jackets — or,  as  some  people 
called  them,  tuxedos.  His  sense  of  propriety 
was  somewhat  jarred  by  the  spectacle.  Didn't 
they  know  that  dinner  jackets  were  correct 
only  at  gatherings  attended  solely  by  men — 
informal  gatherings?  He  took  his  own  coat 
by  the  lapels  and  adjusted  the  set  of  it. 

"The  thing  to  do,"  he  reflected,  comfortably, 
"is  always  to  be  dressed  correctly  for  the 
occasion,  regardless  of  what  others  may  wear. " 
For  years  this  had  been  his  philosophy  of 
dress.  He  had  practised  it  so  long  that  he  had 
forgotten  how  and  when  he  first  developed  it. 

The  head  waiter — the  head  of  all  the  head 
waiters — stood  directly  behind  Brown's  chair 
and  with  his  own  hands  poured  his  cocktail. 
It  struck  Brown  as  a  very  smooth  cocktail  in 
deed,  having  been  made,  of  course,  by  an  expert, 
and  of  the  best  materials. 

"You're  certainly  doing  this  thing  up  in  great 


A    BIG    BANQUET  107 

shape,"  he  said,  turning  to  Bolton.  "You've 
got  a  mighty  good  head  on  you,  old  man.  By 
the  way — the  loving  cup  got  here  all  right, 
didn't  it?  They  promised  to  deliver  it  at  six, 
sharp." 

"Yes,"  Bolton  replied,  "I  have  it  right  here 
under  the  table.  I  haven't  opened  the  case, 
but  from  the  size  and  weight  it  ought  to  be 
quite  a  nice  cup." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  Brown  answered.  "Didn't 
I  pick  it  out?  There's  nothing  ornate  about  it. 
It's  just  a  simple  colonial  design.  But  it's 
some  cup !  With  the  marking  it  cost  a  hundred 
and  eighty  dollars." 

Though,  as  has  been  said,  there  were  many 
Pundits  who  feared  to  display  ignorance  by 
asking  who  Belwyn  Brown  was,  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  no  one  at  the  banquet  asked  the 
question. 

For  example,  a  young  lady  who  had  just 
arrived  from  the  South  to  visit  friends  who 
were  Pundits  of  the  more  exalted  class  felt, 
quite  reasonably,  that  as  a  stranger  she  could 
not  be  expected  to  know  all  of  New  York's 
celebrities. 


108  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"Who  is  Belwyn  Brown?"  she  demanded  of 
her  hostess. 

At  this  the  other  people  at  the  table  stopped 
eating  and  listened. 

"He's  a  prominent  man,  dear,"  replied  the 
young  lady's  hostess,  uneasily.  "  That's  about  all 
I  remember  at  the  moment.  I  can't  think  exactly 
what  he's  done.  He's  prominent,  though.  All 
the  men  at  the  speakers'  table  are  prominent.'* 

Thus,  also,  the  Duke  of  Felixstowe,  but  one 
place  removed  from  the  guest  of  honour,  felt 
himself  for  a  like  reason  entitled  to  inquire. 

"Will  you  be  so  good,"  he  said,  addressing  a 
distinguished  financier  at  his  side,  "as  to  tell  me 
for  precisely  what  achievement  or  achievements 
Mr.  Belwyn  Brown  is  so  widely  known?  " 

The  financier  became  suddenly  embarrassed. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  sir,"  he  replied,  "I 
must  confess  that  I  am  not  quite  clear  upon 
that  point  myself." 

"Oh,"  said  the  duke,  "I  beg  your  pardon. 
I  was  under  the  impression  that  you  were  a 
member  of  the  invitation  committee." 

"So  I  am,"  the  other  answered.  "I  allowed 
my  name  to  be  used  at  the  urgent  request  of  Mr. 


A    BIG    BANQUET  109 

Bolton,  the  club's  corresponding  secretary,  a 
thoroughly  able  and  responsible  young  man. 
Moreover,  a  great  many  of  my  friends,  men  of 
the  highest  position,  were  already  on  the  com 
mittee." 

"Ah,  yes,"  returned  the  duke,  vaguely. 
"Ah,  yes.  Quite  so." 

Then  his  thoughts  returned  to  his  speech, 
the  subject  of  which  was  "Blood  Is  Thicker 
Than  Water." 

Inquiries  concerning  Brown  voiced  at  the 
reporters'  table  were  of  course  couched  in  more 
brazen  terms.  Distinguished  individuals  im 
press  New  York  reporters  no  more  than  large 
buttons  impress  tailors. 

"Who  is  this  bird,  Belwyn  Brown,  anyhow?" 
asked  a  very  young  reporter  who  was  attending 
his  first  Pundits  banquet. 

"You  got  his  name  wrong,  son,"  replied  a 
veteran.  "It's  Bullwyn  Brown.  That's  why 
they  feed  him  in  the  Grand  Bull  Room." 

"Is — that — so?"  retorted  the  neophyte  with 
an  air  of  cold  sophistication.  "Well,  since 
you're  such  an  encyclopedia,  who's  the  solemn- 
looking  blond  guy  next  to  the  general?  " 


110  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"He's  the  great  explorer,"  returned  the  vet 
eran,  mentioning  a  celebrated  name.  "Even 
you  ought  to  know  him." 

"Is — that — so?  "  repeated  the  young  reporter, 
neither  impressed  nor  crushed.  "Maybe  he's 
the  guy  that  discovered  this  Belwyn  Brown?" 

"No,"  returned  the  other,  gravely.  "You're- 
wrong  about  that,  too.  Brown  discovered  him 
self." 

"Brown  didn't  need  such  a  deuce  of  a  lot  of 
discovering,"  put  in  a  short,  pleasant-looking, 
middle-aged  man  who  was  smoking  a  cheap 
cigarette  of  his  own  in  preference  apparently 
to  the  more  fragrant  and  expensive  ones  pro 
vided  by  The  Pundits  Club.  "  He  has  ability- 
plenty  of  it." 

The  others  listened  with  respect. 

"Do  you  know  him,  Mr.  Otis?"  asked  the 
young  reporter. 

"Sure,"  replied  Jimmy  Otis.  "He  was  once 
our  star  reporter  on  the  Dispatch.  Even  then 
we  could  see  where  he  was  headed.  He's  a 
brilliant  fellow;  and  a  mighty  nice  fellow,  too." 

"How  do  you  come  to  be  sitting  at  our  table, 
Jimmy?"  inquired  another  of  the  older  men. 


A    BIG    BANQUET  111 

"Assistant  managing  editors  usually  wear  white 
shirt  fronts  and  sit  out  among  the  animals." 

"Oh,"  returned  Otis,  "I  always  liked  Brown. 
When  the  notice  of  this  banquet  came  into  the 
office  I  got  to  thinking  about  old  times — how 
we  gave  him  a  little  farewell  dinner  when  he  was 
leaving  the  paper.  Bolton  was  with  us  then. 
He  was  toastmaster  at  that  dinner,  too.  So  I 
just  thought  to  myself:  'Instead  of  sending 
one  of  the  boys  I'll  cover  it  myself.' ' 

"That  ought  to  tickle  The  Pundits  all  right," 
said  the  other.  "Nobody's  going  to  cut  your 
copy — and  The  Pundits  don't  exactly  shrink 
from  publicity." 


CHAPTER    TEN 

A     LOVING     CUP 

TO  THE  mind  of  Belwyn  Brown,  also,  there 
came,  this  evening,  recollections  of  that 
other  time,  long  ago,  when  he  had  been 
a  guest  of  honour  seated  upon  Bolton's  right. 
Fascinating  it  was  to  reflect  upon  the  difference 
between  that  dinner  and  this.  He  nursed  the 
ancient  memory  now,  as  Napoleon  in  the  mo 
ment  of  placing  an  emperor's  crown  upon  his 
own  head  may  have  nursed  the  memory  of 
ragged  days  in  Corsica,  delighting  in  the 
allegory  created  by  the  contrast. 

And  what  a  contrast  it  was!  From  the  ri 
diculous  to  the  sublime — from  the  tawdry  to  the 
sumptuous — from  the  small  and  cheap  to  the 
vast  and  costly.  Nobody  had  ever  had  a  ban 
quet  given  in  his  honour  anywhere  at  which 
there  were  more  people.  There  wasn't  any 
banquet  hall  in  the  world  in  which  more  people 

112 


A    LOVING    CUP  113 

could  be  seated.  The  President  of  the  United 
States  couldn't  have  a  bigger  banquet.  There 
wasn't  any  way  to  give  a  bigger  one.  It  simply 
couldn't  be  done. 

While  the  duke  was  talking  about  the  things 
he  had  come  all  the  way  from  England  to  talk 
about,  and  again  while  the  cabinet  member 
was  haranguing  about  the  things  he  had  come 
all  the  way  from  Washington  to  harangue  about, 
Belwyn  Brown  gazed  now  at  the  glints  of  light 
reflected  in  a  wineglass  which  he  twirled  be 
tween  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  now  at  the 
great  assemblage,  and  felt  himself  in  an  ecstatic 
waking  dream. 

Even  when  Bolton  in  his  capacity  as  toast- 
master  came  up  for  the  third  time,  so  to  speak, 
and  began  a  very  fulsome  but  not  very  specific 
eulogy  which  clearly  indicated  that  the  guest  of 
honour  was  about  to  be  called  upon,  Brown  did 
not  come  fully  back  to  earth.  Nor  yet,  even 
when  at  the  proper  time  he  found  himself  stand 
ing,  facing  the  applauding  multitude,  beginning 
to  utter  the  speech  he  had  so  painstakingly 
memorized — not  even  then  did  he  feel  so  much 
like  a  man  looking  down  from  the  speakers' 


114  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

table  at  a  banquet  as  like  Jupiter  looking  down 
from  Olympus  upon  a  vast  and  shimmering 
world. 

He  told  them  something  of  the  sunbeam 
idea;  he  quoted  sunbeams  at  them;  he  revealed 
to  them  how  he  had  taken  sunbeams  to  the 
doughboys  abroad;  he  pictured  our  soldiers 
weary  and  despondent  in  the  rain  and  mud  of 
France,  and  then,  lo — a  burst  of  sunbeams! 
They  smiled.  And  when  he  saw  their  smiles, 
he  said,  he  knew  the  war  could  end  in  but  one 
way.  He  told  how  the  doughboys  dashed 
against  the  foe;  how  the  war  was  won,  just  as  he 
had  known  it  would  be. 

Then  he  had  felt  free  to  come  home  again. 
And  if — perhaps  in  deference  to  the  presence 
of  the  general,  who  had  fought  for  a  long  time 
in  France,  yet  had  never  before  heard  of  sun 
beams  of  the  Belwyn  Brown  variety — the 
speaker  did  not  definitely  declare  that  sun 
beams  won  the  war,  nevertheless  he  left  with 
many  of  his  auditors  a  distinct  impression 
that  such  was  undoubtedly  the  case. 

When  the  applause  following  Brown's  speech 
had  subsided,  Bolton  got  up  again  and  presented 


A    LOVING    CUP  115 

the  loving  cup,  declaring  with  every  appear 
ance  of  profound  gravity  that  it  was  given  by 
The  Pundits  Club  in  token  of  admiration  and 
esteem  for  Belwyn  Brown. 

Brown  rose,  took  the  great  vessel  in  two  hands, 
and  looked  at  the  inscription.  It  was  a  rather 
long  inscription.  The  engraver  had  told  him  to 
string  it  out  all  he  could,  as  there  was  such  a  big 
space  to  fill.  It  looked  very  neat.  The  cup 
felt  fine  and  heavy,  too,  when  you  lifted  it. 
He  set  it  down  in  front  of  him  and  looked  out  at 
his  audience. 

The  room  was  hushed.  People  were  waiting 
for  him  to  speak.  It  all  seemed  very  wonderful. 
An  emotion  stronger  even  than  his  earlier  emo 
tions  took  possession  of  him.  Never  before  in 
his  life  had  he  felt  so  deeply  moved.  In  plan 
ning  his  remarks  he  had  thought  to  begin  with  the 
customary,  formal:  "Mister  Toastmaster  and 
ladies  and  gentlemen";  but  now,  what  with  the 
splendour  of  the  cup  and  the  impressive  silence 
of  that  vast,  crowded  room,  he  felt  that  formal 
words  would  seem  a  little  out  of  place. 

The  note  for  him  to  strike  was  that  of  fullness 
of  the  heart. 


116  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

"Friends,"  he  began,  brokenly — "friends,  I 
am  too  stunned  to  thank  you  as  I  wish  I  could 
thank  you  for  this  handsome  and  unexpected 
token  of  your  regard.  I  can  only  say  that  it 
means  more  to  me  than" — there  came  a  catch 
in  his  voice;  he  took  hold  of  the  cup  and  looked 
down  into  it — "that  it  means  more  to  me  than 
any  other  possession  I  have — or  ever  shall 
have.  Friends,  I — I  am  too  overcome  to  say 
more." 

Somehow,  as  he  spoke,  it  all  seemed  true.  He 
did  feel  overcome.  He  was  all  choked  up. 
Thus  it  came  about  that  as  he  looked  down  at 
the  trophy  two  large  tears  dropped  into  it — 
christening  it,  as  it  were.  The  cup  was  more 
than  wide  enough  to  catch  them  both. 

To  Belwyn  Brown  the  remainder  of  the  even 
ing  was  merely  a  vague,  gorgeous  space  of  time. 
The  general  spoke,  the  economist  spoke,  the  ex 
plorer  spoke.  But  Brown  did  not  hear  any 
thing  they  said.  And  the  applause  that  followed 
their  speeches  was  to  him  only  an  echo  of  tke 
applause  that  had  followed  his  own. 

Then  a  great  noise  of  chairs  being  pushed 


A    LOVING    CUP  11T 

back  and  a  buzz  of  general  conversation  as 
The  Pundits  rose  to  go.  The  banquet  was  over. 
The  multitude  pressed  out  of  the  ballroom  as 
people  press  out  of  a  crowded  train  that  has 
reached  the  end  of  the  line.  The  men  at  the 
speakers'  table  gave  one  another  perfunctory 
good-nights  and  hurried  away.  Bolton  alone 
waited  for  Brown.  Together  they  walked  to 
the  coat  room  reserved  for  honoured  guests. 
"Well,"  said  Bolton,  "we  put  it  over." 
"It  was  indeed  a  great  occasion!"  replied  the 
exalted  Belwyn  Brown. 

Among  the  first  to  leave  the  banquet  hall  was 
Jimmy  Otis.  Jimmy  lived  in  Flatbush  in  a 
substantial  frame  house  set  back  from  the  street 
in  the  midst  of  its  own  little  lawn.  He  owned 
it.  The  payments  on  it  had  been  completed 
several  years  before.  There  also  resided  Mrs. 
Jimmy,  the  children,  the  small  but  reliable  auto 
mobile,  the  dog,  and  the  canary.  And  there 
resided  happiness.  Jimmy  never  saw  that 
house  without  thinking  what  a  lucky  devil  he 
was  to  have  such  blessings.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  in  this  world  some  men  got  more  than  was 


118  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

really  coining  to  them,  and  that  he  was  one  of 
them. 

All  through  the  banquet  he  had  thought,  a 
little  ruefully,  of  the  home  dinner  he  had  missed. 
For  he  was  anything  but  a  banquet  sort  of 
person.  And  though  he  was  glad  to  have  wit 
nessed  Brown's  triumphant  evening  his  one 
desire  now  was  to  get  home. 

Downstairs,  as  he  was  about  to  head  for  the 
Subway,  he  paused.  After  all,  it  would  be  nice  to 
wait  and  speak  to  old  Brown.  He'd  be  coming 
down  any  minute;  and  it  would  no  doubt 
gratify  him  to  know  that  his  old  friends  were 
proud  of  his  success.  Otis  lit  one  of  his 
abominable  cigarettes  and  waited  in  the  hotel 
lobby  for  Brown  to  descend. 

And  Brown  was  descending.  A  hotel  atten 
dant  in  uniform,  bearing  the  cup  in  its  imposing 
case,  had  followed  him  to  the  coat  room.  There 
Brown  had  said  good-night  to  Bolton,  and  with 
his  cupbearer  had  proceeded  to  the  elevator. 
The  elevator  was  full  of  male  and  female 
Pundits — full  of  white  shirt  bosoms,  silk  hats, 
furs,  jewels,  brocades,  and  heady  perfumes. 
None  of  The  Pundits  spoke  to  Brown.  But 


A    LOVING    CUP  119 

now  they  knew  who  he  was.  They  looked  at 
him  and  at  the  cup  case,  and  whispered  behind 
their  hands. 

It  was  a  large  elevator,  and  as  he  stepped 
out  of  it  at  the  lobby  floor  it  seemed  to  him 
that  all  these  other  people  made  a  sort  of  lane 
through  which  he  walked  with  his  cupbearer 
behind  him,  as  an  emperor  might  walk  between 
two  rows  of  brilliantly  dressed  courtiers. 
Though  he  had  entered  almost  like  an  ordinary 
person  his  exit  was  to  be  majestic. 

But  suddenly,  as  he  was  nearing  the  door,  he 
saw  a  man  approaching  with  the  evident  inten 
tion  of  speaking  to  him.  Though  Brown  had 
not  seen  this  individual  in  a  long  time  he  knew 
at  once  who  he  was.  It  was  a  man  named  Otis, 
who  used  to  be  a  reporter  on  the  Dispatch.  He 
was  not  in  evening  dress.  He  wore  a  slouch 
hat,  and  a  cheap  cigarette  dangled  from  one 
corner  of  his  mouth.  He  came  up  smiling,  with 
his  hand  extended  in  greeting. 

"Good  old  Brownie! "  he  exclaimed. 

Brown  swung  sharply  away  from  him  and 
entered  the  revolving  door. 

Outside    the    limousine    was    waiting.     The 


120  SUNBEAMS,    INC. 

boy  handed  the  cup  to  the  carriage  starter,  and 
the  carriage  starter  in  obedience  to  a  gesture 
placed  it  upon  the  deeply  cushioned  seat  beside 
its  owner. 

As  he  drove  off  Brown  threw  an  arm  affec 
tionately,  protectively,  across  the  case,  and 
indulged  himself  in  a  brief  self-gratulatory  yet 
philosophical  reflection. 

"One  thing  is  sure,"  he  said  to  himself:  "In 
this  world  a  fellow  gets  just  about  what's 
coming  to  him." 


THE   END 


THE   COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN   CITY,   N.  Y. 


FEB  1   1 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  UBRARYFAa  ITY 


A     000073196     8 


.  jokaeiiers&Statione 
Washington,  D.  C. 


Universit 

Southe 

Libra; 


